


life is a highway

by hedgehogwatch



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Car Dealership AU, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I know what you're thinking, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Romance, but have you ever worked at a car dealership? hm?, does anyone actually do their job?, i promise....., it's funny I promise, it's sad at times but like, sales rep wonwoo, secretary junhui, that's super weird and boring, the wildest audi dealership on earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehogwatch/pseuds/hedgehogwatch
Summary: jeon wonwoo is thoroughly convinced he's better off navigating life alone.wen junhui wants nothing more than to travel the road with him.(car dealership au where disillusioned sales representative jeon wonwoo tries to save himself the pain of falling for new secretary wen junhui)





	1. A1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey, it's me, ya boi!  
> anyone who has read the diamonds are forever series is probably very confused right now, but i decided it was about time to write something a lot more lighthearted! this fic is very much inspired by my very frequent visits to the audi dealership. hey, inspiration strikes at the weirdest of times and places... but hopefully, you'll enjoy this ride just as much as i did writing it!  
> also, audi central seoul isn't really an actual place. i just kind of took the name from audi central houston whoops...
> 
> love y'all to the moon and back,  
> hedgehogwatch

**From:** schoi@audicentralseoul.kr

**To:** jhlee@audicentralseoul.kr, jhyoon@audicentralseoul.kr, jshong@audicentralseoul.kr, wwjeon@audicentralseoul.kr, mhxu@audicentralseoul.kr, skboo@audicentralseoul.kr, smlee@audicentralseoul.kr, mgkim@audicentralseoul.kr, sykwon@audicentralseoul.kr, clee@audicentralseoul.kr, hschoi@audicentralseoul.kr

 

Employees-

Staff meeting at 11:30 in the lounge. Please try to be in attendance (That includes you, Wonwoo). Shouldn’t be long. 

 

Thanks,

Seungcheol

___________

 

It is a known fact that early in the morning, being calm and peaceful and serene is a near-impossible task, unless, of course, you are asleep. But as desperately as Jeon Wonwoo wants to be tucked in his bed under six blankets, he has rent, groceries, and Netflix to pay for- the only reason why he is sat at his desk at 7:03 AM, checking his inbox.

 

He’d been watching several videos and reading countless articles about how to ‘grab the morning by the horns’ and ‘seize the day’ through methods other than a steady stream of caffeine, but no amount of deep breathing or push-ups seems to take the place of his trusty cup of joe. Wonwoo sighs as he holds his coffee to his lips, the steam fogging up his glasses and blurring the computer screen. He doesn’t mind, really; he’s always been a firm believer in the philosophy of ‘out of sight, out of mind’, and for a few blessed moments, he truly does manage to pretend that the email doesn’t exist. 

 

But that fleeting moment of tranquility is quickly shattered by someone swinging his door open. 

 

“Wonwoo, did you get the email?” Jeonghan waltzes in and takes a seat in one of the chairs reserved for clients, resting his elbows on Wonwoo’s desk. 

 

The younger nods, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his navy sweater. “Yes,” he grunts, hoping that short and curt replies will ward off the unwelcome visitor. 

 

“Mhm,” Jeonghan hums. He drums his fingers on the table as he looks around Wonwoo’s office, no doubt finding something new to criticize. It truly amazes Wonwoo how his co worker has the ability to come up with a new complaint about him every single day. “So what do you think Cheollie wants?”

 

The fact that Jeonghan calls Seungcheol ‘Cheollie’ makes Wonwoo want to gag. “Beats me.” Judging by the direction of Jeonghan’s focus, he’s definitely about to make a comment about the number of papers flooding his outgoing mail box. Wonwoo knows he should probably throw away- no,  _ recycle _ \- most of those sheets, but he’d read somewhere that people with messier offices tend to produce more creative ideas than those with neat offices, so he lets it be.

 

Finally Jeonghan speaks up. “You know,” he drawls, pursing his lips, “Maybe it’s about the condition of your office. Cheollie  _ did _ specifically mention you.”

 

On his own, Yoon Jeonghan was a major annoyance to Wonwoo. He was pretentious, snide, and unbelievably fake, and worst of all, he acted far superior to his pay grade. (The salary for a sales representative at Audi Central Seoul was decent enough, but nothing to go bragging about.)  Despite all that, though, the man was ultimately tolerable, as Wonwoo had to deal with the most trying of clients on a daily basis. But bring Jeonghan’s husband and fellow salesman Joshua Hong into the picture, and Wonwoo can’t be trusted to keep his temper. 

 

“Or maybe it’s about your less-than-average sales this month, Wonwoo,” chimes Joshua, right on cue. He walks into Wonwoo’s office in all his lilac sweater vest, khaki shorts, and eBay Gucci loafers-clad glory and drapes himself over his husband’s shoulders. “You look wonderful today, sweetheart,” he smiles, giving Jeonghan a peck on the cheek.

 

Wonwoo takes another sip of coffee, mostly for the purpose of keeping his mouth shut. Of course Joshua would say that Jeonghan looks wonderful. They’re  _ matching. _ “It’s too early for this shit,” he mutters under his breath as he turns back to his computer. Maybe if he looks busy, he thinks, they’ll leave.

 

Joshua frowns. “With an attitude like that, there’s no chance of you winning Employee of the Year.”

 

_ ‘One, two, three. Deep breaths, Wonwoo. Deep breaths.’ _ Wonwoo places his palms flat on the table and and pushes himself away from the desk, allowing a good four feet of distance between himself and the enemies. “Look,” he exhales, “I’m just trying to start my morning here. Whatever it is that Seungcheol wants, we’ll find out at 11:30.” He glances over at the leaning tower of papers in his outbox before turning back to Joshua and Jeonghan. “Is it my office? Maybe. Is it my sales? Probably not, considering mine are higher than both of yours this month. Is it my attitude? Perhaps, but unlikely. I think it’s highly understandable to be at least a little upset when people barge into your office to give you a piece of their mind at any time of the day, much less before 10 o’clock. Now, is there anything else I can help either of you two with?”

 

“No,” Jeonghan pouts, standing up and adjusting the white cardigan tied around his neck. “That’ll be all. Come on, Joshua,” He interlocks his elbow with his husband’s and storms out, purposely leaving the door open, because that’s what petty people do.

 

It takes a considerable amount of self-restraint for Wonwoo to not scream. Instead, he opts for a quiet, but equally scathing grunt, followed by a weak, “Fuck you two.” He gives himself a few moments to collect himself before turning back to his desk and preparing for his 8:15 appointment, praying that the worst of the day was over.

 

Thankfully, that seems to be the case. Mrs. Kang, his client, had done her homework beforehand, and she’d already picked the car she wanted from the dealership’s website. All Wonwoo had to do was show her the car, accompany her on a test drive, and hand her over to finance, who then handled the rest. He really wishes more of his clients were that prepared. 

 

As easy as it was, though, it still took about three hours before the process was fully complete; he still had to finalize everything after she’d sorted out payments and insurance, and he helped her transfer her belongings from the old car to the new one. By the time he finishes, Wonwoo realizes that it’s already 11:24, six minutes before his scheduled meeting. Normally, he’d just brush it aside and shoot Seungcheol an email explaining yet another reason why he couldn’t make it. But his boss actually called him out on his shit in today’s email, and he doesn’t want to give Joshua and Jeonghan any more material to use tomorrow.

 

So he heads over to the employee lounge at a speed just slightly above his normal walking pace, hoping to make it there a few minutes early, if only just to impress. 

 

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Seungcheol remarks as Wonwoo trudges through the lounge door.

 

Wonwoo returns the comment with some sarcastic jazzhands. “Surprise, surprise.” Apparently, everyone else in the office had the same idea, seeing as they were all seated and ready at 11:28. “I’m even two minutes early.”

 

“You’re still the last one here,” Joshua mumbles, eyeing Wonwoo as he slips into his seat. “Technically, you’re late.”

 

Were they alone, Wonwoo would have flipped him off or said something offensive, but he doesn’t want to risk it in front of the rest of his coworkers, especially since a part of him isn’t entirely convinced the meeting doesn’t concern the future of his job. “You got me there, Joshua Hong,” Wonwoo concedes with a plastic smile.

 

Sensing the growing tension between the two sales representatives, Seungcheol decides to commence the meeting at once. “So,” he begins, clearing his throat, “I bet you’re all wondering why I called you here today.” There’s a chorus of affirmative noises from the other employees seated around the large circular table. “I have someone to introduce.” Seungcheol turns to the young man standing next to him. “This is Wen Junhui, your new secretary.”

 

Wonwoo looks up at said man, wondering how he didn’t notice him when he walked in. The guy is nice-looking, even by the strictest of measures. Maybe even  _ very _ nice-looking. But Wonwoo knows better than to let himself get flustered over just some pretty face. So he forces his thoughts away from the new guy’s godlike features and broad shoulders and soft-looking honey-colored hair and perfect lips and decides to stare at the glittering flecks on the table’s quartz surface instead. 

 

“Hi, I’m Jun,” the new secretary beams, and Wonwoo finds his eyes being drawn to him again. “I’m really excited to get to know all of you and be a part of the team.” His handsome face radiates charm and confidence, features lighting up with excitement. 

 

It’s cute, Wonwoo admits, but he reminds himself that he’s an adult with a desk job. More specifically, an adult with a desk job and zero (0) time for teenage crushes on boys who look like k-pop idols.  _ Besides, he’s probably a total douche with hair like that.  _

 

“So, why don’t you all go around and say your name and position,” Seungcheol suggests, a blessed distraction from Wonwoo’s thoughts. “Let’s start with Jihoon.”

 

The short platinum blonde rolls his eyes. “Lee Jihoon. Finance.” Wonwoo’s always felt a sort of kinship with Jihoon, a fellow bitter soul amongst a sea of overbearing effervescence. Jihoon, along with Mingyu and Soonyoung, is one of the few coworkers that Wonwoo actually considers a friend.

 

“Hey, I’m Lee Seokmin, and I’m a receptionist.” He gives Jun one of his blinding smiles. “Glad to have you here!”

 

Wonwoo is almost thankful the next person is a little more subdued. “Xu Minghao, service rep,” the man says with a small bow of the head. 

 

Mingyu casually throws an arm around Minghao’s shoulder and grins. “I’m Kim Mingyu, head of the service department. Nice to meet you.” The comment is obviously directed at Junhui, but Mingyu’s eyes seem to be lost in Minghao’s, and Wonwoo wonders how much longer the overgrown child will wait until he mans up and asks his crush out.

 

“Yo, I’m Kwon Soonyoung,” his co worker says, eyes forming tiny crescents on account of his broad smile. “I’m the head of the parts department. My office is in the other building, but feel free to drop by anytime! I have mints,” he adds with a laugh. As different as he and Soonyoung are in terms of personality, Wonwoo has always gotten along with the bubbly parts manager as though they were old kindergarten friends. 

 

Wonwoo tries his best to drown out whatever it is that Jeonghan and Joshua say with an internal chorus of “Fuck you” at varying pitches. 

 

Next up, after the couple from hell,  is Seungkwan, who’s slightly more tolerable. “Hi, I’m Boo Seungkwan, and I’m a receptionist, too! Can’t wait to get to know you, Junhui,” he smiles brightly.

 

_ And now it’s my turn.  _ “Uh, I’m Jeon Wonwoo. I’m a sales rep,” he says shakily, wincing at his less-than-enthused delivery. It’s not that he was excited about his job or name in the least, but even if he was dead inside, he didn’t want it to be so obvious just from his introduction.

 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all,” Junhui giggles with a slight tilt of his head that makes it all the more endearing. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you guys when I start next week.”

 

Just as Mingyu only has eyes for Minghao, Wonwoo can feel Junhui’s stare burning into his soul. He would dismiss it as a stray glance or something, but no, Junhui’s eyes are practically glued to his face. Wonwoo knows he’s not ugly, but compared to the rest of his coworkers, he’s nothing special in his opinion, which is why he’s not sure why the new secretary is studying him so intensely. But at least he’s not surprised when Junhui comes over to him as the rest of the employees disperse for their lunch breaks. 

 

“Hey.”

 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, turning to Junhui, who’s now taking the empty seat next to him. He desperately wants to get up and go get some lunch of his own, but something intangible keeps him in place. “Hi,” he answers, forcing his lips into a half-smile. 

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

The sales rep furrows his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“You look sad, or, like, upset,” Junhui hums, scanning Wonwoo’s expression with concern.

 

“Um,” Wonwoo chuckles awkwardly, “That’s just my face. Sorry if I got you worried.”

 

Junhui shakes his head, gaze still uncomfortably hanging over Wonwoo. “No, it’s okay. You do have a really nice face, though,” he adds with a devilish glint in his eye.

 

It’s becoming clearer and clearer by the second to Wonwoo that he needs to shut this down, and fast. “Thanks, but I really need to go pick up my lunch right now,” he says firmly, standing up from his chair.

 

He curses silently when Junhui stands up as well. “Really? Where’d you order your lunch from?” the soon-to-be secretary asks with wide eyes.

 

“Starbucks.”

 

An excited gasp leaves Junhui’s pretty lips. “Me too! The bacon gouda breakfast sandwich is the best, don’t you think?”

 

Wonwoo taps his foot on the ground irritatedly, trying to pry away whatever invisible force was drawing this man to him. “I prefer the reduced fat turkey bacon breakfast sandwich,” he sighs. “But I really gotta go.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Junhui smiles. “I’m headed there anyway, so I’ll just pick it up for you, if you want. You can give me your money, and I’ll bring back the change. Or you can just pay me back later for it.”

 

The offer really is enticing. The Starbucks is about ten minutes away, and by the time he gets back, he’ll only have about five minutes to eat before his break is over. But at the same time, something about Junhui irks him, and he doesn’t want to give they guy any sense of false hope that he’s interested in pursuing a friendship or anything.  _ But Wonwoo, you could finish that episode of Flower Boy Next Door you’ve been too busy to watch…  _ “Deal.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out 22,500 won. “The total was 16,992 won, even. I’ll know if you stole from me,” he says, a little too threateningly. 

 

The other raises a hand in defense, accepting the cash in the other. “No worries, I’m not a thief,” he laughs. “The order is under ‘Wonwoo’, right?”

 

“Yea-” He stops himself and pauses for a moment, the X-Files theme playing in his head. “How do you know my name?”

 

“Dude, you introduced yourself.”

 

Wonwoo’s not having it. “Yeah, but you’re not supposed to  _ remember _ everyone’s name. There has to be that awkward week, or even month, or not knowing people’s names or it’s creepy,” he says, crossing his arms. 

 

“I don’t remember everyone’s name, though.” Junhui folds the bills and puts them neatly in his pocket before looking back up at Wonwoo with a cheesy grin. “Just yours.”

 

“I swear, rookie, if my sandwich is cold by the time you get here, I’m gonna put thumbtacks in your chair.” Wonwoo rolls his eyes and straightens his tie. He’s not sure why he’s putting up with this blatant flirting, but it’s almost as if he doesn’t mind. Almost. “So you better haul your ass over to Starbucks or you’re gonna be walking funny for weeks.”

 

_ Well, fuck. That came out wrong.  _ Both of their cheeks turn bright pink, the unintended innuendo not lost on either of them. But after a few painful moments, Junhui manages to regain his composure. “I’m headed out the door right now,” he says, his smile more than a little strained.

 

Wonwoo can only stand there in utter mortification as he watches Junhui’s figure slip out of the lounge, the door swinging behind him. ‘ _ You done fucked up, Jeon Wonwoo,’  _ he sighs to himself.

 

About fifteen agonizing minutes later, Junhui stumbles into Wonwoo’s office with a Starbucks bag in hand. Wonwoo is beyond grateful for the distraction; he had been sitting there contemplating his poor life decisions for at least eleven minutes, and he was beginning to venture into unhealthy territory. “Hey, I brought your sandwich.” He reaches into his pocket and puts Wonwoo’s money on his desk. “And your change,” he adds with a playful eye roll. 

 

“Thanks,” Wonwoo exhales as he takes the sandwich. He looks back up to see Junhui still standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “Um, do you need something?”

 

Junhui gives Wonwoo a shy smile as he reaches back into the Starbucks bag and pulls out a smaller pastry bag. “Yeah, I got this for you.” 

 

“What is it?” the sales rep asks, simply looking at the bag in his hand.

 

“It’s a chocolate cake pop. If you don’t like it, I got a birthday cake one just in case, but,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips tugging upward, “You seemed to me like a chocolate kind of guy.”

 

Tentatively, Wonwoo takes the cake pop put of the bag and twirls the stick between his thumb and forefinger, glancing back and forth between the dessert and Junhui’s impatient expression. It’s not that Wonwoo isn’t grateful or anything, but he’s too confused by the gesture to respond.

 

Apparently Junhui seems to take the other’s silence as a rejection, stepping back and turning towards Wonwoo’s office door. “Sorry to bother you, Wonwoo,” he sighs, wrapping his fingers around the door handle.

 

“Wait!” Wonwoo is taken aback by his sudden outburst, grimacing slightly. “Um, thanks.” He watches as Junhui slowly turns back around to face him, lips drawn tight together. “Chocolate is good.”


	2. Q2

 

“Okay,” Junhui gasps, bursting into Wonwoo’s office. “Before you murder me on the spot, yes, I did try closing the program and reopening it, but it still isn’t working!” He bites his lip, trying his best to seem cute, hoping it’ll appease Wonwoo enough to get him to lend a hand. Ever since he laid eyes on the tall, handsome sales rep, he was smitten. Better yet, he knew Wonwoo was, too. Those stormy eyes of his didn’t do quite a good enough job of clouding the obvious attraction that Wonwoo held for him, and as a young, single man with more than enough free time, he figured he might as well pursue him. 

 

Wonwoo grumbles something incoherent under his breath. “Seriously, Jun? This is the third time I’ve had to help you with this. If Kwon Soonyoung can figure it out, then anyone with half a brain can. I’m busy right now.”

 

It took a few days to really figure Jeon Wonwoo out, but now Junhui is pretty sure he knows what makes the other tick. On the exterior, he seems cold and grumpy and distant, but it’s not too difficult to see that he’s a softie on the inside. Junhui can already tell he’s the type of person that says “I hate you” to mean “I love you”, the type that gives awkward pats on the back instead of hugs, the type that doesn’t show affection much, but loves with an incredible depth and passion.

 

Well, that’s at least what Junhui  _ hopes _ Wonwoo is like. He’s only known him for a few days, and in that time, the most he’s gotten out of him was a few half hearted thank yous. “Pleeeease,” Junhui whines, practically hanging from Wonwoo’s door handle. “Hopefully this’ll be the last time.”

 

“Jun,” Wonwoo sighs, “I’m trying to pull up some specs for a client. Ask Jeonghan or Joshua to help you. I’m sure they’d be more than happy.”

 

Junhui scoffs. “No way in hell am I talking to those two if I’m not being forced to.”

 

“Look it up on the Internet, then. It’s the World Wide Web, the information superhighway. I’m sure you’ll find something.” His face, however, is less than encouraging. 

 

He really doesn’t want to have to resort to bribery, of all things, but Junhui knows that desperate times call for desperate measures. “I’ll bring you cookies tomorrow.” Suavely, he slides his elbow onto Wonwoo’s desk and rests his chin in his hands. “Double chocolate chip,” he adds, licking his lips rather obscenely.

 

That seems to do the trick, as Wonwoo’s eyes widen considerably, noticeably trying to avoid staring at Junhui’s tongue. “Deal,” he breathes, standing up from his chair and stretching. One really can’t go wrong with sex and chocolate...

 

“Nice! Thanks, Wonwoo. You’re the best.” Junhui makes sure to give Wonwoo the most dazzling of smiles as a show of thanks. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

 

Junhui bounces over to his desk and plops down into his chair with so much force that it does a full spin before stopping in front of his computer. “So,” he starts as he points to the computer screen, “Can you help me here? I’m trying to put in this customer’s information, but every time I go to click ‘done’ it won’t let me exit!”

 

“Hm, let me see.” Wonwoo gets behind Junhui’s chair and leans over his shoulder, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. 

 

Suddenly, Junhui’s heart stops. He’d been shamelessly flirting with this guy for the past week, but now that they’re actually  _ this close _ , Junhui is pretty sure he’s about to pass out. All he can think is, ‘Wonwoo’s right there. Next to me. Cheek just mere centimeters from my cheek. He smells so amazing. I would so bang-’

 

“Um, Jun?” The man in question snaps his head to face Wonwoo so fast that he accidentally hits his head against his. “SH-” Wonwoo quickly realizes there are people around, unlike the solitary confinement of his office “-it,” he finishes in a pained whisper. 

 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorr-”

 

Wonwoo closes his eyes and raises a hand to quiet him, using the other to cover his busted lip. “S’ok,” he mumbles. “Just-”

 

“Wonwoo, your lip is bleeding really badly.” Quickly, Junhui looks around for some tissues or something, but by the time he turns back to Wonwoo, there’s blood already dripping on his shirt. “Here, come with me to the bathroom, and I’ll clean it up for yo-”

 

“‘M fine!”

 

Junhui stands up, takes a firm grip on Wonwoo’s skinny arm, and drags him away from his desk. “I get that you’ve got pride and stuff, but right now you look like you just got mobbed by a drug lord or something.”

 

“You did thi’th to me!” Wonwoo protests as he tries to squirm out of Junhui’s hold. 

 

But he’s no match for Junhui’s arm muscles, toned from years of martial arts and dance. Without too much effort, Junhui is able to haul him to the bathroom. He subconsciously checks to make sure there’s no one else in there; he’s not sure why, but he supposes he doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. “Okay, just stay still. This might sting a little,” he cautions as he grabs several paper towels and wets them under the faucet. Carefully, he holds the wet towels to Wonwoo’s lips, trying to keep his hand steady so he doesn’t worsen the cut. 

 

Naturally, Wonwoo hisses at the sensation and raises his shoulders in discomfort. As strange as it sounds, given the situation, Junhui’s heart does a little flip at the sight of his normally-stoic co worker acting like a child at the doctor’s office. “Hey, you’re doing great!” He tries his best to give Wonwoo a reassuring smile, but that doesn’t seem to help much. Wonwoo is clearly in pain. There’s quite a lot of blood still seeping from his lip, and Junhui is pretty sure he’ll need a lot more paper towels. “Why don’t you have a seat. This might take a while.”

 

Wonwoo nods and sits down in one of the seats in the small sitting area connected to the bathroom, holding the wad of wet paper towels against his mouth while Junhui goes to grab some softer hand napkins and a bottle of water. “Can you come back to the sink for me?” Junhui asks, unscrewing the water bottle cap. When Wonwoo gets there, Junhui instructs him to tilt his seat sideways, parallel to the sink, and pours the water over the cut. Once the blood is washed off, momentarily at least, he applies the napkins to Wonwoo’s lip and holds them there with a little pressure. 

 

It never occurred to Junhui that it would be this hard to take care of someone’s busted lip, not in the sense that the actual care was difficult, but that Wonwoo has  _ really, really _ nice lips, and if he let his hand slip just the slightest bit, he would be touching them.  _ ‘I might be the one that’ll need medical attention considering how fast my heart is beating,’  _ he thinks to himself, face heating up as Wonwoo catches him staring.

 

His lanky co worker doesn’t show much of a reaction, but there’s a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of the good side of his lips, and it’s then that Junhui is positive he’s been caught. But since Wonwoo doesn’t make anything more out of it, Junhui decides that neither will he. Instead, he pours a little more water on Wonwoo’s lip to dampen the napkins so he can remove them to see how the cut is progressing.

 

Thankfully, it’s not as bad as he initially thought, now that the bleeding has slowed. “Good news,” he says, placing fresh napkins on Wonwoo’s lip. “You definitely don’t need stitches. But your mouth is probably going to be sore and swollen for a couple days. Do you have any more clients this afternoon?”

 

Wonwoo shakes his head negatively.

 

“Great. So just try to keep pressure on your lip for about an hour or so, and if you need to change the napkins or take them off, be sure to wet it first so it doesn’t pull off the scab.”

 

“Thanks, doc.” Wonwoo tries his best to smile, only the edges of his mouth peeking out from under the napkins, but it’s enough to send Junhui into near-cardiac arrest. 

 

It feels oddly intimate and domestic, this moment that seems to last for hours in Junhui’s brain. Sure, he’s fooled around before, but he’s never felt that fuzzy, static-y feeling that takes over him when he’s around Wonwoo. At first, he was just trying to have some fun with his hot co worker and just see where it got him, but now, barely a week in, he realizes he’s in way deeper than he bargained for. But one look at Wonwoo and his bloody shirt and ridiculous smile makes Junhui wonder if that’s such a bad thing after all.

 

***

 

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of Yao Mingming. Please leave a message after the b-”

 

Junhui nearly slams his phone against his desk. Of course his roommate isn’t picking up; he’s probably drunk off his ass at some house party. It’s Friday night, after all. And while Junhui isn’t really the house party type (though he’s never turned down an invitation), he’d rather be there than Audi Central Seoul at 8:00 PM. Everyone else had gone home by 7:15, even Jihoon, and the cleaning staff had already begun to start mopping the floors. 

 

He considers calling a taxi or something, but that’s really a last resort for him. He’s never been fond of taxi drivers. So he decides to try Mingming again, just  _ one more time _ .

 

Naturally, one more time turns into three more times, which turns into twenty-three more times, and by the twenty-fourth, Junhui is pretty sure he could do voiceovers for telephone prompts should his current job flop. “Please pick up,” he mutters under his breath. 

 

“Jun?” 

 

Said man jumps in his chair at the intrusion, but once he sees who it is, he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, hey Wonwoo. What are you doing here so late?” He lays out on top of his desk with a yawn, tapping his fingers lazily on the dark wood surface.

 

“I should ask you the same thing. It’s, like, 8:10. Why are you still here?” Wonwoo looks pitiful. The whole day he’d been complaining of congestion and fatigue, but under the dim lighting of the vacant office, the dark circles under his eyes are hard not to notice. 

 

Junhui sighs. “Looks like my ride ditched me.”

 

Wonwoo sets down his briefcase and walks closer to the secretary’s desk, pulling up an extra swivel chair to sit next to Junhui. “I can bring you home, if you want,” he offers with a yawn of his own. 

 

“No, I’m fine. I can’t ask that of you.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I’ll just get a taxi or take the bus or something. It’s really okay.”

 

“Nah, it’s no big deal. Where do you live?”

 

“Wonwoo, just go home. You need some sleep.” At Wonwoo’s skeptical expression, Junhui gives him a reassuring smile. “I’m a grown man. You don’t have to worry about me, honestly.”

 

The taller man shakes his head and crosses his arms, obviously trying to look authoritative. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. I’ve worked here for three years, and this place is still creepy as hell after dark.” He nudges Junhui’s side with his elbow, a mischievous grin on his face. “Don’t even get me started with the ghost,” he whispers, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

 

Junhui rolls his eyes. The fact that Wonwoo is resorting to ghost stories to persuade him into letting him give him a ride home is absolutely ridiculous, but oddly sweet. “Come on, Wonwoo. You can’t be serious.”

 

“Oh, but I can,” he gasps, leaning in closer to Junhui. In the past month, their interactions had grown far less stiff and inhibited, and while any proximity to the sales rep made Junhui’s heart flutter, it just felt natural by this point. “There was this one client, Mrs. Yoo, whose payment transaction took so long that she eventually just died right in her chair. By the time the finance guy- this was like eighty years ago, a little before Jihoon’s time- came back, her corpse had already rotted away, leaving only her skeleton.” Wonwoo lowers his head, eyes fixed on Junhui’s, and drops his voice a good two octaves, if that’s even possible, given how deep his voice already was. “And now, as revenge for her awful customer service, she haunts Audi Central Seoul every night, tormenting the souls of those who work overtime.”

A few moments of silence ensue before Junhui finally relents. “Fine,” he groans. “I live in Buam-dong, not too far from here.”

 

Wonwoo’s face lights up. “Okay, yeah. I can definitely give you a ride there. I, uh, don’t live too far from there myself. No biggie,” he adds with a tired smile.

 

“Are you sure, Wonwoo?”

 

“Are Joshua Hong and Yoon Jeonghan the spawns of Satan?”

 

He certainly has a point. “Is your car out front or in the parking lot?” Junhui asks, grabbing his phone and turning off his computer. 

 

“It’s in the small parking area by the maintenance building. I’ll walk there with you, though.” Wonwoo swings his keys around his finger and catches them in his hand effortlessly before waving for Junhui to follow him. 

 

The nighttime air is surprisingly chilly, considering how hot the day was, and Junhui can’t help but shiver as a strong breeze blows across his face. He looks over at Wonwoo to see if he notices the drop in temperature as well, wondering if maybe it’s just the fact that he’s not completely acclimated to the weather in Seoul. 

 

“The cold front was supposed to come in tomorrow night, but I guess it’s here early.” Wonwoo’s breath leaves little puffs of fog that swirl around in the wind until they disappear into the night air. Junhui watches intently. “Are you cold?” he asks, stopping and turning towards his co worker.

 

“I’m okay, really. It’s just,” Junhui shivers, “I’m not used to the cold. It was pretty hot in Shenzhen for most of the year.” 

 

Wonwoo nods, resuming his walk towards his car. “So you’re Chinese, then?”

 

“Yep. Born and raised.”

 

“Why did you come to South Korea?”

 

Junhui shrugs. “I wanted a change of scenery. Something new and exciting.”

 

“You’re a thrill seeker, huh?”

 

He’s never really thought about it before, but now that he thinks back on some of his major life decisions, they’ve all been based on having new experiences and trying new things. Comfort and stability have always come second to spontaneity for Junhui, but until now, he would have never labeled himself as a ‘thrill seeker.’ “I guess so.”

 

“Then what are you doing at Audi Central Seoul?” Wonwoo laughs, a deep and rich sound that makes Junhui feel just a little less cold. 

 

The secretary gives Wonwoo a lopsided grin. “My co workers are pretty exciting people.”

 

“Oh yeah, Jihoon is just an  _ endless _ source of entertainment,” Wonwoo deadpans. 

 

Junhui just laughs in response.  _ You’re pretty exciting.  _

 

“Here we are.” Wonwoo stops in front of a silver Audi S8 and presses the key to unlock it. Apparently, he seems to notice Junhui’s open-mouthed stare and quickly raises his hands defensively. “Look, it’s not what it looks like. You don’t know how long I saved for this car, plus I got an employee discount. Trust me,” he chuckles, opening the passenger door for Junhui, “My apartment is shitty as hell. But I really love cars, so I figured I might as well enjoy the drive to my shitty job every morning.”

 

Junhui’s fingers trace the leather and wood details inside Wonwoo’s car, wishing he had a car like this. He doesn’t even own a car. It’s never been necessary, since Mingming had always been happy to drive him wherever he needed to go. But recently, Mingming has been busier and busier, and Junhui figures it’s about time to start car shopping. He doesn’t want to have to burden other people to give a grown man rides home. “It’s a really nice car,” he whistles.

 

There’s a look in Wonwoo’s eyes when he turns to smile at him that Junhui can’t pinpoint. He looks… almost sad, but he can see fondness in those dark depths, too. “Thanks,” Wonwoo says quietly before starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. 

 

The drive to Junhui’s apartment is pleasant, basic chatter and the occasional pun, with the radio’s endless supply of 90s love ballads in the background. Wonwoo’s car is warm, and Junhui’s insides feel like he’s burning up whenever he catches a glimpse of Wonwoo’s striking profile, eyes focused on the road ahead.  _ You’re in so deep, Jun. Get a grip, boy. _

 

***

 

Wonwoo walks inside Junhui’s apartment complex with him and accompanies him to his door. It’s bland and a little dated, but to Junhui, it’s home. He leans back against his faux wooden apartment door and lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for decades. Something about the familiar surroundings makes him feel much more at ease, even around Wonwoo. “Thanks for bringing me home, Won. It means a lot.”

 

“It’s no problem. Just let me know when you need another ride,” he smiles casually.

 

It was noticeable in the dark office, but in the oddly-bright lighting of his apartment hallway, Junhui can see just how worn Wonwoo looks. His eyes are red around the edges, and the circles under his eyes are much darker than he’d realized. For some reason, the sight of his co worker in such an awful state makes Junhui’s heart ache. “You should really go home and get some good sleep.” He forces a smile to mask his concern. “I’ll be really angry if you wake up before 9:00 tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Don’t worry, I plan on sleeping in until noon,” Wonwoo laughs.

 

Junhui nods slowly before taking his keys out of his pocket. “Good.” He doesn’t want Wonwoo to go, doesn’t want to end this here. But Jeon Wonwoo is nothing more than a stupid work crush that’s unrealistic, not to mention inappropriate. Sure, the man hadn’t outright rejected him… Well, he had, but after some persuasion, he grew warmer and warmer, to the point where Junhui maybe even considered them friends. Nothing more, though. Nothing more. 

 

“Good night, Jun,” Wonwoo murmurs, leaning in to brush the other’s hair behind his ear and pressing a small kiss to his cheek. Without another word, he turns around and makes his way down the hallway before disappearing down the stairs.

 

Junhui can only stand there, dumbstruck. Hesitantly, he reaches up to touch his cheek, which is now practically on fire, just to make sure he was still alive. Wonwoo’s lips were so much softer than he’d imagined, and the rough scab from where he’d cut his lip earlier that month only made it more endearing. 

 

He isn’t sure how Wonwoo snuck his way into his heart, but from the moment he laid eyes on the brooding sales representative, he knew he couldn’t let that one go. But, as expected, Wonwoo had treated him like the most persistent annoyance, comparable to only Joshua and Jeonghan. Junhui saw how he laughed when he talked to Soonyoung and Mingyu, and how he did this weird eye-communication thing with Jihoon, and deep down, he wished that Wonwoo would at least give him the time of day. So he conveniently created situations in which they were forced to interact, like offering to pick up his lunch, or “accidentally” dropping the wrong person’s papers off in his office.

 

As childish and attention-hungry as that was, it worked well enough. Days passed, and Wonwoo’s icy exterior began to thaw, just slightly enough that Junhui could see something warm and intriguing underneath. It began with playful teasing, covered by a thick layer of sarcasm, and soon blossomed into something a little more sincere. But that made it all the more terrifying for Junhui. When it was just playful banter between them, he could be as flirtatious as he wanted to, but as soon as Wonwoo started to soften up, Junhui realized that he was venturing into uncharted territory, one that could potentially lead him out of the realm of friendship and into something else.

 

For days and weeks, Junhui studied Wonwoo carefully, gauging every reaction of his to see if, perhaps, his own feelings could possibly be reciprocated. It had all been conjecture then, a nice, but ultimately far-fetched fantasy. 

 

Tonight changed all of that, though. Wonwoo  _ kissed _ him. On the cheek, sure. But co workers don’t kiss each other on the cheek, and if even if they do, they don’t stop to run their fingers through the other’s hair and whisper ‘good night’ in their ear. 

 

“Shit,” Junhui whispers to himself before unlocking his apartment door with shaky fingers and walking inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i get a hoyaaaa? (hoyaaa) here's some stupidly disgustingly sweet wonhui for you. will it always be that way? mmhmmmm we'll see...  
> all of your kudos and comments just put the biggest, dumbest smile on my face. you guys are the absolute best <3  
> also, public service announcement, you can always uhh come chat on [tumblr](https://holidaywonwoo.tumblr.com/) if you want to rant about this trainwreck of a story or just want to scream into the void with me!!  
> aaaalso, each chapter switches perspective, so it goes back and forth from jun and wonton :)
> 
> i love you, reader! i ain't never gonna stop loving you, reader!  
> hedgehogwatch


	3. Q3

“Mornin’ Wonwoo,” Soonyoung beams, holding the door open for the sales representative to walk through. “How’s everything going?”

 

Wonwoo groans. “Terrible.”

 

“Why, what happened?” Soonyoung asks as he walks down the hallway, trying to keep up with the other’s unusually fast pace. 

 

“Can we talk in my office?” As annoyingly irritating as he can be at times, there’s no one Wonwoo would rather go to for advice than Soonyoung. The parts manager loves to talk, but Wonwoo has learned that he’s an even better listener, offering surprisingly sound advice, even for the most insignificant of problems. 

 

Soonyoung nods. “Of course.”

 

Wonwoo sighs as he shuts his office door behind him, throwing himself onto his desk chair and covering his eyes with his hands. “Soon, you gotta help me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

 

“Okay, slow down, buddy. Take a deep breath and tell me everything.” The elder leans forward, propping his elbows up on Wonwoo’s desk and resting his chin in his hands, squishing his soft cheeks in a way that makes him look utterly ridiculous. 

 

A moment of silence, then a sigh. “I think I’m catching…  _ feelings _ .” That word feels so unpleasant in Wonwoo’s mouth, like it’s the name of some sort of disease or something. 

 

“What kinds of feelings? Stomach pain? Nausea? Toothache? Lower back pain- that one always gets me, yeah, down in that lower spine right above-”

 

“No,” Wonwoo breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “Like  _ feelings _ feelings. Like  _ there’s a guy  _ feelings.”

 

That makes Soonyoung’s eyes widen more than Wonwoo’s ever seen them before. He nearly jumps out of his chair, but instead hugs his knees into his chest, rocking back and forth excitedly. “There’s a guy?” he gasps.

 

“Well, not necessarily, but like, those sorts of feelings. Like whenever I see this guy, I dunno, I just want to,” he gestures vaguely, trying to find the most safe-for-work way to put it, but ultimately coming up empty, “Fuck him against a desk or something.”

 

“Jeon Wonwoo!” Soonyoung shrieks, that universal motherly look of disappointment set on his face. “You man-whore! Is this yet another potential hookup?” he exhales in exasperation. 

 

No, this was certainly not another hookup. No former fling had ever made Wonwoo feel the way he does when he’s around  _ him _ . Ever since he kissed Junhui goodnight that one evening, their interactions had grown decidedly different, marked by subtle touches and lingering stares; it was clear that this was morphing into something new and frightening for Wonwoo. His breath catches in his throat every time he sees Junhui walk down the hallway, and he finds himself taking second glances at the other’s long legs when before, he never looked away from his screen, not even if the apocalypse had come. “Man, I don’t think so. Like, I’m getting attached and sappy, and he makes my heart do that weird thing where it feels like I’m having a heart attack.”

 

“Oh my God, Wonwoo. You can’t seriously be falling in love. Do you not remember what happened last time? You had to take three days off of work!” Soonyoung shakes his head. “I’m not saying you need to reject this guy, but you need to be sure  _ both _ of you are serious about a relationship if that’s what you’re trying to imply here.”

 

“No, this is definitely not a relationship!” Wonwoo isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but his heart rate has suddenly and dramatically risen. “And I can’t let whatever the two of us have now turn into one! I just… I don’t have the heart to turn him down,” he whines pitifully.

 

Soonyoung shrugs. “Then keep it noncommittal. No strings attached. You’ve done it in the past, and you can do it now. I’m sure a guy like Junhui has, too, so just tell him you want to keep things casual.”

 

“Wait, I didn’t tell you this was about Junhui.”

 

The parts manager leans back in his chair and laughs, a stupidly smug grin on his face. “Sweetheart, I have eyes. And a dick. I know what it’s like to be young and full of sexual urges.” He snickers at Wonwoo’s disgusted expression. “He’s cute, yeah. You should just talk to him, tell him you want this to just be a friends with benefits deal, and move along with your miserable life. And if he doesn’t want that, then find someone else to fuck,” Soonyoung adds, sneaking a handful of mints from Wonwoo’s glass candy dish. 

 

Soonyoung’s proposed plan sounds easy, and straightforward, and foolproof. But Wonwoo is difficult, complicated, and undeniably foolish. He knows he can’t tell Junhui that, not when, the Monday after he gave him a ride home, the guy brought him coffee- black with one packet of artificial sweetener, just how he likes it- along with a note saying, ‘Thanks for bringing me home, Wonwoo,’ a little hand-drawn heart in the corner. People who are only interested in hooking up don’t do that, don’t bake cookies for the other person, or email the other pictures of kittens, just to brighten their day. Those actions are far too intimate for a casual, physical arrangement.  _ That’s relationship shit, and you know it, Wonwoo. _

 

***

 

Jeon Wonwoo has only been in love once, and that didn’t end well. The only thing- if anything- that godawful experience did for him was help him realize that he should probably never fall in love again. Since then, he’s stuck to one-night stands or casual hookups, a quick and easy way to get laid with no emotional labor involved. Others might argue that sex without feelings makes a man lonely, but Wonwoo always says that if you’re already lonely in the first place, how much worse can it get?

 

Still, a part of him has always wondered what he’s been missing out on. He was happier than usual when he was in a relationship, at least he was at first, and all of his friends with girlfriends and boyfriends seemed happy to be in love. Mingyu’s eyes light up brighter than his future when he sees Minghao, and Joshua and Jeonghan… Well, Wonwoo figures they might be an exception. 

 

As he waits for his nightly coffee to brew, he leans against the counter and begins to weigh the pros and cons of giving a relationship with Junhui a shot. First of all, Junhui is hot as fuck. Even if he were blind, the sound of his voice alone would be enough to bring Wonwoo to his knees. Second, Junhui really seems to be making an effort to like him, which is something Wonwoo can’t say for most people. The standoffish, stony expression of his is usually enough to deter people, but for some reason, the more he tries to push Junhui away, the more the secretary tries to squeeze his way into every crevice of Wonwoo’s heart.  _ And it’s working,  _ Wonwoo sighs to himself. 

 

He moves on to the list of cons as he pulls his coffee out from under the coffee maker and pulls out a single packer of artificial sweetener. First of all, they’re co workers, and office relationships are by and large considered inappropriate. Second, Wonwoo is a terrible lover. Not in the physical sense, but as far as affection goes, he’s pretty sure a cactus could make a better boyfriend. Third, and probably most importantly, Wonwoo just doesn’t  _ want _ to be in love. He doesn’t want to put the effort into cultivating and maintaining a relationship with someone who will probably just dump him in the end.  _ Then why the fuck did you kiss him goodnight? _

 

“Boo!”

 

Wonwoo screams at the feeling of hands shoving his shoulders forward, then screams some more as the burning coffee in his hand splashes all over his white dress shirt. 

 

Of course, he turns around to see Junhui standing behind him, grimacing. “Jun, what the-” Wonwoo bites his tongue before he lets out a string of obscenities- “ _ Heck _ ,” he whispers, pained. His shirt is completely ruined, not to mention the fact that the hot coffee hurts like hell. The wetness causes the shirt to stick to his skin, so he can’t escape the feeling of his skin practically melting. “Why are you still here? Again?”

 

Junhui rolls his eyes. “My roommate bailed on me.  _ Again _ .”

 

“So I’m assuming you need a ride home… again?”

 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Junhui’s eyes wander to the single flickering overhead light illuminating the deserted break room before focusing on Wonwoo’s lips hovering above the rim of his coffee cup. “Why are you drinking coffee this late at night?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in question.

 

“I like coffee,” Wonwoo answers with a completely straight face as he takes a long sip of his drink. “But not when it’s all over my shirt,” he sighs, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

 

It’s not lost on Junhui, and he steps back, hanging his head in embarrassment and wringing his hands. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles. A quick nod at the stained shirt. “Do you want to take it off? Like, would you be more-” he pauses, realizing what he was implying, “Comfortable,” he finishes weakly, cheeks flushing red. 

 

“Um,” Wonwoo coughs awkwardly. “I’m good. I’ve, uh, got another shirt over in the maintenance locker room. For emergencies.”

 

“Emergencies?” Junhui closes one eye as though trying to puzzle out why on earth Wonwoo would need an emergency shirt.

 

The real answer is less exciting than one might suspect; Wonwoo tinkers around in the maintenance shop during his free time, helping Mingyu out whenever he’s swamped or just bored, and occasionally, he gets grease and gasoline on his work shirt. That’s why he’s always made sure to keep a spare in the locker room, in case he needs to look presentable for a client. Never did he think he’d need it for something like this, though. “It’s a long story. I’ll go grab it and change while you get all your stuff. If you’re done before me, you can just head over to my car and I’ll meet you there.”

 

“Okay. See you in a few.” Wonwoo watches as Junhui walks out of the staff lounge, gait just a little wobbly with fatigue. As he makes his own way to the maintenance wing, he thinks about how awful it must be to have your roommate cancel on you at the last minute, leaving you alone at work at 7:54 in the evening. Thoughts begin to fill Wonwoo’s head of what Junhui would have done if he wasn’t there to give him a ride. Would he get a taxi? Walk home? Spend the night in his office? He doesn’t know why the idea of Junhui alone and nervous makes him feel a weird sensation in his chest, but it does, and he doesn’t particularly like it. 

 

He shakes his head as he walks into the maintenance locker room, clearing all of those stupid thoughts from his head. The coffee sticks to his fingers as Wonwoo unbuttons his shirt and crumples it into a ball. There’s no salvaging a white shirt stained with black coffee. He moves onto his equally sticky undershirt and pulls it over his head.  _ Yep, still skinny _ , Wonwoo sighs to himself as he takes a quick selfish glance in the mirror at his body. Despite his slightly better-than-averagely defined ab muscles, the rest of him looks pretty small and sad compared to Mingyu or Junhui, probably.

 

Wonwoo slips on the emergency shirt, a black Audi polo. It was designed to fit snugly around the shoulders and waist, like an athletic polo, but on Wonwoo, it just looks baggy, bony shoulders poking underneath the fabric and long, gangly arms hanging out from the sleeves. He’s tried putting on weight, and when that didn’t work out, he tried putting on muscle, but no matter what, he can’t seem to keep any of it on. The Jeon family frame worked for his brother- he’s a model now- but the agent apparently wasn’t interested in Wonwoo, dooming him to be a tall, lanky twig in an averagely-proportioned field of work. At least he’s not as tall as Mingyu, he always reminds himself. 

 

The walk to his car is uncomfortably chilly, since his shirt has short sleeves and he has barely any body fat to keep him warm, but the sight of Junhui leaning against his car sends warm sensations through Wonwoo’s veins. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Wonwoo says as he unlocks the car and opens the door for Junhui.

 

“You know, you don’t always have to open the door for me,” Junhui chuckles, taking a seat and strapping up. 

 

Wonwoo’s cheeks turn pink, and not just from the cold. “I- uh… I don’t know, it’s just a habit. Sorry.”

 

“Relax, Won.” Junhui gives him a reassuring smile and pats his arm lightly. “I’m just kidding. I,” he diverts his gaze, tilting his head just slightly downward, “I think it’s nice of you to do that.”

 

As Wonwoo drives, he finds it increasingly hard to keep his eyes on the road when there’s something (someone) so  _ distracting _ next to him. The streetlights and moonlight leave kisses of radiance on Junhui’s face, casting a soft glow on his features.  _ He looks ethereal _ , Wonwoo muses at one red light, watching the crimson beams dance in the other’s hair.

 

And then he stops himself. He shouldn’t be musing so poetically about anyone, much less his secretary. If anything, he should use this opportunity to break the news to Junhui that he’s available for a physical relationship and nothing more. It’s perfect: the two of them are alone, it’s quiet, and worst case scenario, he can just drop Junhui off on the side of the road. He grits his teeth, clears his throat, and turns to Junhui, hands gripping the steering wheel with unnecessary force. “Hey, Junhui.”

 

“Hm?” Junhui smiles softly, eyes practically glittering in the night. The light from the tail lights of the car in front of him outline the delicate curve of Junhui’s upper lip, hopelessly drawing Wonwoo’s attention and injecting feelings inside of him that the sales rep had previously thought only existed in fairytales. He just wants to lean forward a little more, get a little closer, and-

 

“Do you want to get dinner?” It takes a few seconds for him to register what he’s just said, but when it hits him, it hits him like a freight train.  _ Fuck. How could you be so stupid, Wonwoo? You’re supposed to- _ “I know this really great Thai place nearby.”

 

Junhui’s eyes widen. “I love Thai food.” Quickly, though, the brightness fades, and he bites his lip nervously. “But I have food at home. Really, I already feel bad for asking you to bring me home. I don’t want to impose or ruin your plans.”

 

“No!” Wonwoo interjects, a little too quickly for his own liking. “I, uh… I don’t have any plans tonight.” He does his best to put on an easy smile and make it look like his insides aren’t a house of cards, on the verge of toppling. “Besides, why let your roommate have all the fun? It’s Friday night,” he shrugs. “Might as well do something special.”

 

“Are you sure?” Junhui asks hesitantly, playing with his fingers.

 

“Positive.”

 

Lotus Blossom is probably Wonwoo’s favorite restaurant in the world. He would kill a man and sell his soul to the devil for their Thai iced tea and Tom Kha soup. Scratch that- it  _ is _ his favorite restaurant. 

 

“Wonwoo! I haven’t seen you in a month!” 

 

Said man smiles warmly as he reaches down to hug Mrs. Kwang, the elderly woman who owns the restaurant. He’s such a regular customer that all of the waiters and waitresses know him by name and start cooking his “usual” order the second he walks through the door. “Hi, Mrs. Kwang. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by lately. I’ve been crazy busy with work, but I made sure to make time to get some noodles and Thai iced tea.”

 

Mrs. Kwang steps back and scans Wonwoo up and down, making him shrink under her scrutinizing eye. “You need to eat more, Wonwoo. Am I going to have to make extra for you?”

 

“Please,” Wonwoo laughs. “I’m starving.”

 

“And who is this handsome young man?” she coos, tilting her head in Junhui’s direction. 

 

Wonwoo feels the blood drain from his face as he realizes he’s not even sure how to introduce Junhui. What even is he to him? “Uh,” he stammers, “This is Junhui. He’s my… friend from work.” Friend from work. Hey, that’s pretty good.

 

“Hi, I’m Jun.” He grins as he offers Mrs. Kwang a hand to shake.

 

“Nice to meet you, Jun. You two take a seat wherever you’d like. The usual, Wonwoo?” she chuckles, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

He has to stop and think about the offer for a few moments. It’s only logical to pick the usual, pad thai and Thai iced tea. He likes it. It’s good. He gets it every single time. “I think I’ll try something new tonight, actually,” Wonwoo says, ignoring the rational part of his brain for, like, the fifth time that day.

 

Junhui follows Wonwoo as he walks over to a secluded table for two by the window and takes his seat across from him. “This place is so cute,” he hums, taking in the simple, yet tasteful design, vibrant magenta and orange fabrics draping from the ceilings and bathing the restaurant in a warm light. Thai artwork hangs from the walls, each painting and engraving done in beautiful colors with gilded accents. Because of its inconspicuous location, though, Lotus Blossom is rarely packed, especially not at night. It’s just the two of them, in fact. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Wonwoo half-smiles as he picks up a menu. He really does try his best to thoroughly read the descriptions of each dish, since he made the choice to order something different, but he finds his focus flickering up to Junhui every now and then from above his menu. He can’t help but watch the way the other’s tongue pokes out to run across his upper lip as he reads, and how his thick lashes seem to flutter against his skin every time he blinks, and-  _ Stop it, Wonwoo. You look creepy. _

 

Reluctantly, he pries his eyes away from Junhui and back to the menu. But Wonwoo is impulsive and has to get one last glance. And, of course, Junhui catches him. A small, but undeniably sly smirk dances on Junhui’s lips as he lowers his menu and folds it neatly on the table. “So, what do you recommend, Wonwoo?” he asks, tracing the edge of the table with his finger.

 

Wonwoo’s breathing grows shallow at the secretary’s playful expression. He knows that look all too well, and more importantly, he knows that it leads to. But it does make him feel a little less awkward for staring. “Uh…” He ducks behind his menu to hide his growing blush. “The pad thai is really good.”

 

“Then I’ll take your word for it,” Junhui giggles, the seductive look in his eyes betraying the innocent tone of his voice. 

 

He makes an extra effort to wink at Wonwoo when he tells his order to the waiter, laughing softly at the pained expression that makes its way across the sales rep’s face. Wonwoo clears his throat before he orders his own dish, trying to actually focus for once. “I’ll have the Pad See Ew noodles and a Thai iced tea,” he says as he hands his menu to the waiter.

 

“No coffee?” Junhui questions, resting his chin in his hands. 

 

“Pfft. Very funny. I already had my nightly coffee, thank you.” He looks down at his shirt and sighs. “Well, what I could have of it before you spilled it on me.”

 

Junhui pouts. “It’s not my fault you’re such a scaredy-cat. All I did was creep up behind you and say ‘boo.’”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Scaredy-cat.”

 

“Honestly, though.” Wonwoo unrolls his silverware from the napkin and places it on his lap, figuring it was an unoffensive enough action that would fill the awkward silence that would inevitably come. “What made you think that was a good idea? Is that your way of trying to get my attention?”

 

He doesn’t really know what he would expect, with a question phrased so obviously, but he can’t say he’s surprised when Junhui leans forward, looking up at him through lowered lashes. “Did it work?” he hums, voice low and thick and very, very dangerous for Wonwoo.

 

_ Hell yeah, it did.  _ Easily, he could shut down and go into standby Wonwoo mode, but he hasn’t felt the rush of playful, slightly suggestive banter in so long. His brain wants to slap him across the face for letting this go on like it currently is, but his heart- and most certainly not any other organ- has other plans. Resisting his better judgement has proven to be too exhausting, and ultimately, useless. So he gives in. “Maybe,” he smirks, dropping his voice an octave. “There are other ways to get my attention, too.”

 

“And here are your drinks,” the waiter cuts in, blissfully ignorant of the conversation he walked in on as he passes Wonwoo his Thai iced tea and Junhui his lemonade. 

 

As soon as the waiter leaves, Wonwoo takes a sip of his tea, purposely exaggerating his lips as he raises his eyebrows at Junhui, taking in the other’s slack-jawed stare and red face. “What?” he grins, twirling the straw between his fingers. “Two can play at this game, you know.”

 

***

 

Junhui doesn’t even bother to lock his apartment door behind him when he gets home; He’s too busy being dragged onto the couch by Wonwoo, thin hands circling his wrists with a considerable grip. Hurriedly, Wonwoo rests Junhui’s shoulders against the cushions and positions himself on top of him with his knees on either side of Junhui’s hips. “Any objections?” he murmurs against Junhui’s neck, lips moving gently against the golden skin. 

 

All the secretary can do is shake his head and guide Wonwoo’s lips to his mouth.

 

It’s not neat, not pretty, but Wonwoo loves it.  _ It, not him _ , he reminds himself as he tilts Junhui’s head back to deepen the kiss. The soft sound of Junhui’s gasps and sighs is indescribably beautiful, and Wonwoo can’t help but want to hear more. He slips his tongue past Junhui’s lips, slowly exploring the forbidden expanse.  _ Cut the bullshit and get in his pants.  _ As their kiss falls into a steady rhythm, Wonwoo realizes he could get drunk on the taste of Junhui. It’s sweet like the chocolate shake he begged Wonwoo to buy him on the drive home, but there’s so much more depth that it makes Wonwoo’s head spin. 

 

Frantic fingers tangle in Wonwoo’s dark hair as the younger grazes his teeth along Junhui’s plush lower lip, pink and swollen from the intensity of their kiss, but not yet bruised. Wonwoo hopes to change that soon. Small nips at Junhui’s lips quickly grow sharp and needy, breathy whines and moans filling the room. As nice as it is, though, Wonwoo doesn’t want to get off track. He’s here to have some quick physical gratification, then head back home. Nothing more. 

 

So he moves his hands to Junhui’s shirt, making quick work of the buttons, and opens it to reveal a muscular, tanned chest, like something out of Wonwoo’s wildest dreams. “You, uh…” His eyes trail down Junhui’s torso, taking in the sweat-slicked skin and tight muscles. “You have a nice body,” he breathes, looking back into Junhui’s eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Junhui smiles, hints of gleaming white teeth peeking out from his ravaged lips. Hesitantly, he grasps onto Wonwoo’s shirt collar, asking for permission with heavy-lidded eyes. “Can I?”

 

Slowly and deliberately, Wonwoo slides his hands up Junhui’s chest to rest behind his neck. “Mm,” he hums, playing with the soft hairs at the nape of Junhui’s neck, “You’d be disappointed.”

 

“You’d be surprised.”

 

Wonwoo just lets out a small noise of acknowledgement before running his fingertips back down Junhui’s chest, completely disregarding the other’s request. This was supposed to make him feel good, not self-conscious. Especially considering how goddamn gorgeous Junhui is, Wonwoo figures it would only blow the high if he took his shirt off and got vulnerable. His fingers slip below the waistline of Junhui’s pants and under his boxers, ghosting along his hipbone.

 

“Wonwoo.” Immediately, Junhui grabs Wonwoo’s hand and pulls it away from his pants. Wonwoo just stops there in shock, unable to process what was going on. Junhui  _ did _ say he didn’t have any objections, right? Soft fingers interlace with Wonwoo’s rough ones, and Junhui brings their connected hands to his lips. “Let’s not rush, yeah? I just…” He looks down at their hands, then back up at Wonwoo. “It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s just,” he sighs, “Not right now.”

 

The sales representative pauses for a few seconds, still dumbstruck, then nods slowly. “Yeah, um, that’s fine.” Awkwardly, he climbs off of Junhui’s body and stands up, fixing his shirt. “I guess I’ll just leave, then?”

 

Something that almost looks like hurt flashes in Junhui’s eyes as that question, before melting into something softer.  _ He’s so beautiful _ , Wonwoo thinks, suddenly realizing how much he misses the velvety softness of his skin or the feeling of his silken hair between his fingers. But promises are promises, and he promised himself he wouldn’t get carried away. 

 

“Won, don’t you want to stay a little longer?” Junhui’s voice is small and fragile, and despite all the warning signs glaring at him, Wpnwoo can’t help but let it get to him. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Junhui pulls his legs into his chest and sits upright on the sofa, drawing little shapes in the fabric with his index finger. “I-I know it’s a lot to ask, but Mingming isn’t coming home until late, and,” he covers his face with his hands in embarrassment, “Forget it. It’s stupid. You should go home if you want to.”

 

_ Okay, great. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.  _ “Jun,” he says in a voice that’s so soft and gentle, he’s not entirely convinced it’s his own. “If you want me to stay, I will.”

 

“See? I made you feel guilty, and now you’re just pitying me. Please, Wonwoo. Just go on home. I really appreciate you bringing me here, and taking me out to dinner, and being a really amazing kisser, but I’m just holding you hostage at this point. Get some rest, love,” he adds quietly.

 

“Love?” Wonwoo closes his eyes. This is deep shit. Real deep shit. And he’s knee deep in it. But he’d have to be a complete jackass to walk out on Junhui. In the past, he would have just taken the jackass route and forgotten this whole mess ever happened, but Junhui has somehow messed with his internal wiring, gluing him to the floor. But he does try his best to ignore the pet name.  _ Some people are just like that. They use pet names for friends. And probably fuck buddies too. _ “Look, Jun. It’s not a problem. I’ll stay.”

 

A tiny smile lights up Junhui’s face. “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“Do you want something to drink?” Junhui asks, sitting up a little straighter. “We’ve got cheap wine, water, and maybe some coke. I’ll have to check on that one, though.” He gets up and heads to the fridge, holding the door open as he scours through it. “Yeah, no coke,” he calls in Wonwoo’s direction.

 

Wonwoo waves his hand noncommittally. “I’ll just have some red wine, if you have some.”

 

A few minutes later, Junhui returns with two glasses of wine and makes himself comfortable on the couch again. “Here you go,” he says as he hands Wonwoo his drink. “So, uh, what do you want to do?”

 

_ If you don’t wanna fuck, then I just wanna go home.  _ Wonwoo makes a noise that’s probably most accurately classified as an indecisive grunt. “I don’t know. What do  _ you _ want to do?” he groans.

 

“Oh please don’t tell me you’re one of  _ those _ people. Just-” Junhui sighs, “Do you want to watch a movie?”

 

“Sure.” Wonwoo exhales after a long sip of wine and leans back into the sofa. “Or do you have a Wii? We could get really drunk and try to do the Wii Fit obstacle course.” It’s a personal favorite pastime of his of which he wishes more people understood the pure enjoyment value. The obstacle course, at least the advanced level, is damn near impossible on its own. Mix in some alcohol, and things just get wild.

 

Junhui takes a moment to mull over the thought. “Sounds fun, but I don’t have a Wii.”

 

“What movies do you have, then?”

 

“Whatever’s on TV.”

 

“You suck.”

 

“I know,” Junhui laughs, reaching for the remote. “I’m cheap and boring.” He flips through the channels, occasionally turning to Wonwoo to try to read his expression as to whether he wants to watch it or not. Wonwoo doesn’t give him anything to go off of. He doesn’t want to watch TV. He wants to go home and sleep.

 

Finally, Junhui reaches the end of the channel list. “Won, you’re going to have to pick something. These are all the channels I have.”

 

“How about sports?”

 

Junhui shrugs, changing the station to the sports channel. It’s a club soccer match, and Wonwoo hadn’t heard of either team, but he figures it’s better than actually having to make conversation. After about an hour and a half of silently watching the game and drinking wine, Junhui is fast asleep with his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder (Wonwoo isn’t quite sure how he got there). He debates over waking Junhui up or just letting him sleep. The shorter man looks so peaceful and calm in his sleep, and the way his head is perfectly positioned in the crook of Wonwoo’s neck sends fuzzy feelings through Wonwoo’s body. Junhui smells nice, too.

 

Not nice enough to make Wonwoo stay the night, though. “Hey, Jun,” he whispers, poking the sleeping secretary’s cheek. “I’m gonna head home, okay?”

 

“Wha-” Jun stirs, still halfway asleep. 

 

Wonwoo tries again, a little louder this time. “I’m going home now, Jun. Thanks for having me.”

 

Slowly, Junhui blinks his eyes open, looking like a sleepy kitten in his drowsy state. He lets out a soft yawn, hot breath fanning across Wonwoo’s neck. “Is Mingming home?” His voice is groggy and thick with sleep, but there’s a hint of urgency lacing it that makes Wonwoo worry just a little bit. 

 

“Uh, no. He’s not here yet.”

 

Junhui frantically reaches for his phone on the side table next to the sofa, and he has to squint when the bright light hits his eyes. The corners of his mouth turn downward after checking it, and he turns it back off before plugging it in the charger again. “Asshole,” he mutters under his breath. “He’s not coming home tonight.” 

 

One look at Junhui’s big, sad eyes makes Wonwoo’s heart shatter in two. He doesn’t know a thing about Mingming, or his relationship with Junhui, or his partying habits, but he can clearly see that the fact that Mingming is gone really upsets Junhui for some reason. “What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks, trying to keep his voice clear of any judgemental or accusatory tones. He really does just want to know what’s on Junhui’s mind.

 

“You don’t want to hear it.” Junhui is deflecting, and Wonwoo knows it, as deflection is one of his signature moves. 

 

Does he really want to hear it? Not particularly, if he’s being honest. Does he want Junhui to feel better? Probably... Ultimately, he chooses the latter. “I do, though.” He positions himself so that he’s facing Junhui, legs crossed on the sofa. “I mean, if you want to tell me, that is.”

 

It takes Junhui a few moments of hesitation before he finally gives in. He hugs his knees into his chest, pretty eyes peeking out from behind his knees. “It’s just kinda hard for me to sleep alone here. I don’t know if you know this, but I only lived in Korea for two weeks before I started working at the Audi dealership. I know it’s been a couple of months, but still,” he sighs. “Even though I know Korean, I still feel like an outsider. Seoul is smaller than Shenzhen, but it just seems so big, and cold, and I know maybe twenty people out of the ten million that live here.” After a long, pregnant pause, Junhui looks up at Wonwoo, gaze downcast. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

 

“Nah, you’re good.” As much as he’d like to pretend to be unaffected by Junhui’s story, he remembers how he felt when he moved to Seoul with such clarity that he can practically feel the acne growing on his face again. 

 

He was fourteen, and his father was offered a better job in Seoul than his old one back in Changwon. Changwon was by no means a small town, but it was nothing compared to the blinding lights, bustling streets, and in-your-face advertisement of Seoul. And quiet, unassuming fourteen-year-old Wonwoo felt invisible. Everyone was fashionable, and smart, and knew how to navigate the city like the backs of their hands, and Wonwoo could barely muster up enough courage to ask for directions. 

 

“Are you going to be okay on your own?”

 

“Probably.” Junhui gives Wonwoo the fakest of smiles, another tactic in which Wonwoo is extremely well-versed. 

 

Halfheartedly, Wonwoo places a hand on Junhui’s forearm and looks forward. A tender gesture combined with eye contact would just be too sappy. “You want me to spend the night here with you?”

 

He expects Junhui to just get flustered and politely refuse, stating that, ‘It’ll be too much trouble,’ or something like that. But Junhui nods his head yes, finally meeting Wonwoo’s eyes with his own. “It would mean a lot to me,” Junhui whispers.

 

_ Abort mission, abort mission, abort mission, abo- _ “Do you have an extra pair of pajamas and a toothbrush?”

 

***

 

Junhui’s quiet, steady breathing is a lullaby for Wonwoo, like ocean waves pulling him under the tide of sleep. But Wonwoo fights the current with every fiber of his being, and the crushing feelings of guilt and anxiety keep him afloat. He glances down at Junhui, his head a comforting weight on Wonwoo’s chest and his strong arms draped lazily across Wonwoo’s body. 

 

By all means, he should be enjoying the fact that he’s finally gotten to be so close and intimate with the person that’s been occupying so many of his thoughts lately, but instead it just makes him feel like shit. He’s not dumb; Wonwoo knows Junhui probably has feelings for him and thinks that he reciprocates them. Underneath all of the flirting and humor, it’s not too hard to see the soft, sensitive side of the man. 

 

Wonwoo really does wish he were different- more emotional, more loving- but he’s good at his job, and that’s all that really matters to him. The rest just requires too much effort. That mindset, however cold it may sound, had served him well for his adulthood, and his little foray into vulnerability with his ex was just proof that he’s not cut out to wear his heart on his sleeve.  _ ‘You’re born alone, and you die alone. Might as well get used to being alone while you’re alive,’ _ is his self-made motto. 

 

But, damn it, something about Junhui threatens to break apart his armor link by link with every smile, and every laugh, and just about everything he does, and it makes Wonwoo want to cry. He knows what’ll happen if he gives in to Junhui’s feelings, he’s seen the effects with his own eyes.

 

When he closes his eyes, he can see Doyoon’s teary eyes looking back at him as he packs his clothes into a suitcase. It was navy blue, Wonwoo remembers. 

 

_ “Look, Wonwoo. I just can’t do this anymore. I’ve tried so hard to find the good in this relationship, but when it’s one-sided, there’s not much good to find.”  _ Doyoon zips up the suitcase and sits there on the edge of the bed for a moment, a single tear falling onto the messy sheets.  _ “You’re a great guy, Won, but I don’t think you realize how draining it is for me to have to singlehandedly keep us together.” _

 

Then, Wonwoo opens his stupid fucking mouth.  _ “But Doyoon, I-” _

 

_ “I know you love me. Believe me, I really do.”  _ Every time Wonwoo recalls the moment when Doyoon said that, he feels the urge to go smash a piano or something. Doyoon was just so fucking sincere and good, and Wonwoo just did him so wrong.  _ “And I know it’s selfish of me, but I need affection. Not just, like, a hug or kiss, but,”  _ Doyoon chokes on his tears,  _ “Some kind of reminder that you do love me.” _

 

Apparently, he didn’t learn his lesson the first time, and Wonwoo tries to defend himself again, as usual. That’s all he ever does.  _ “Baby, I can try to-” _

 

_ “But it’s not in your nature to be affectionate, Won. I don’t want you to feel like you have to change just to make me happy. That’s not a relationship.”  _ Doyoon sighs.  _ “I crave tenderness and all of that stuff, and that’s just not how you are. And that’s okay. But I don’t think it’s a good dynamic for either of us.” _

 

_ “Doyoon-” _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”  _ Doyoon stands up and puts his suitcase on the ground.  _ “I really enjoyed the time I got to spend with you.” _

 

_ “Please don’t go.” _

 

But Doyoon leaves. He walks quickly towards Wonwoo’s apartment door, like he’s trying to rip off a bandage and get through the worst of it as fast as possible. And Wonwoo just watches. He doesn’t try to stop the love of his life. Hell, he doesn’t even say goodbye. He just watches.

 

In his mind, he can see Junhui’s face in place of Doyoon’s, walking out while Wonwoo just stands there, beautiful eyes so full of hurt.  _ “I’m sorry, Wonwoo,” _ Junhui tells him. Memories dance through Wonwoo’s mind as Junhui puts his hand on the doorknob: the two of them talking and laughing at work, his eyes drifting from the road as he drives Junhui home, their small, secret glances, and their shared smiles, and their comfortable silences.  _ “I really enjoyed the time I got to spend with you.” _

 

So Wonwoo pries Junhui’s arms off of his chest and shifts away from the other. It’s too late for him to drive home now, but he’s not going to let himself get swept up in this any longer. He needs to end this as soon as possible, both for his sake and for Junhui’s. Junhui doesn’t deserve to be lulled into a false security that Wonwoo loves him back. And even if Wonwoo does eventually grow to love him at some point, Junhui still doesn’t deserve Wonwoo’s inevitable distance and lack of affection. 

 

But it’s suddenly so cold without Junhui’s warmth, Wonwoo realizes. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand and laces his fingers with Junhui’s, running his thumb over the other’s knuckles as a tear rolls down his cheek.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wonwoo need some milk.
> 
> so yeah that was pretty crazy and wild... will wonwoo ever wake up inside (wake him up inside)? idk, maybe? maybe not? y'all just gonna have 2 keep reading... when i post the next chapter, that is...
> 
> in the meantime, come jam w me on [tumblr](https://holidaywonwoo.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> me gustas tu,  
> hedgehogwatch <3


	4. A4

Junhui taps his pen furiously against his desk as he tries to think of tastefully flirty to write on Wonwoo’s coffee cup. Their Friday night together was a little more awkward than it had played out in his head beforehand, but hey, he still got to kiss Wonwoo. Even two days later, he can still feel the softness of Wonwoo’s skin against his as they laid in bed, glued to each other’s side. In the middle of the night, the sales rep apparently took his shirt off, and when Junhui awoke that morning, he was blessed with the sight of a shirtless Wonwoo. It was painful for him to refrain from touching, but he could see the lean muscle underneath Wonwoo’s pale skin, and thinness and all, he found the other’s body lovely.

 

His heart skips a beat when he remembers the fact that he’ll see Wonwoo again. Every opportunity to catch a glimpse of his tall, dark, and handsome coworker is a delight for Junhui, and sometimes he wonders to himself how he got so lucky to be able to see him for five out of the seven days in a week. 

 

After a few more moments of thinking, he realizes that there aren’t many cute coffee puns other than  _ ‘I like you a latte’ _ , but he really doesn’t have the brainpower to come up with a new one himself. So he ends up just going with  _ ‘I like you a latte’ _ and hopes that Wonwoo will just overlook the cliche-ness of it. He does, though, draw his signature little heart next to his name, just to add a special touch.

 

As he walks down the hallway toward Wonwoo’s office, Junhui can picture his coworker’s tired, grumpy, beautiful face, probably dozing off behind his computer monitor. He knocks at the door twice before Wonwoo grunts, “Come in.”

 

“Hey, Won,” Junhui smiles. The other man looks dreadful, even more so than usual. His eyes are red and puffy, and his hair is disheveled, and his lips are chapped. “What’s up?”

 

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his computer screen. “Jun, I’m busy right now.”

 

The coldness of Wonwoo’s voice throws Junhui off balance. Not that Wonwoo was the warmest person on earth, but even comparatively, he sounds stiff and detached. That nagging voice in the back of his head tries to fill his thoughts with memories of Friday night, playing back all of the possible scenarios where he might have gone wrong, but Junhui decides to cut that stream of thought off before it gets far. “I, uh, brought you some coffee.” Awkwardly, he places the cup on Wonwoo’s desk and stands back, hands nervously fidgeting with his shirt sleeves. 

 

A few beats pass before Wonwoo finally looks down at the steaming cup, then back up at Junhui. “I already got some coffee on the way to work. You can have it,” he sighs, sliding the cup across his desk in front of Junhui. 

 

Something deep down inside of Junhui wants to pour the scalding hot coffee down Wonwoo’s pants, but the calmer, optimistic side of him reminds him that Wonwoo might just be having a bad day. It happens. Life happens. Not everyone can be an angel every day. Except maybe Seokmin. He has yet to see that man in a less-than-sunshiney mood. 

 

“Oh, okay. It’s no problem! I’ll just go add a shit ton of milk and sugar into this, since I made it black just for you.” Junhui makes sure to emphasize that last part, for a subtle sting. 

 

“Okay. Can you get out of my office now? I really have a lot of work to do.”

 

Junhui knows this is the point where he should probably quit, but he’s stubborn as hell, and just can’t bring himself to believe that after all they went through over the weekend, Wonwoo would really just drop him like a dirty rag. “Come on,” he smirks, leaning over Wonwoo’s desk and resting his chin on the top of Wonwoo’s monitor. “You and I both know that you’re not working. Like, ninety-nine percent of the time I come in here, you’re just playing spider solitaire.”

 

“I’m not fucking around, Jun,” Wonwoo snaps, startling the secretary. “Unlike you, I do more than just print out papers and hand people their shit.”

 

He almost does pour the coffee on Wonwoo’s pants, but ultimately settles on knocking over Wonwoo’s container of pens. “You know what? Fuck you, Wonwoo.” Furiously, Junhui storms out of the office, making sure to leave the coffee on the sales rep’s desk. He doesn’t slam the door behind him, but he makes sure to close it as angrily as he can without drawing any attention to himself. 

 

But Seungkwan sees everything.

 

The receptionist whispers something to Seokmin, then calls Junhui over to the concierge desk. “Come see me in the file room for a sec, Junnie,” Seungkwan says, pointing in the direction of said room. 

 

Reluctantly, Junhui obeys, not wanting to upset anyone else today. He heads inside the tiny file room to see Seungkwan sitting down in an office swivel chair, arms outstretched. “Come here, honey,” he frowns sympathetically. 

 

Junhui isn’t really sure why he suddenly feels like he wants to cry, but there’s a familiar lump in his throat that almost always leads to tears. He crashes into Seungkwan’s arms and settles into his lap, burying his head in the younger’s shirt. In retrospect, Junhui figures it was pretty weird, but it felt nice and comforting at the time, so he doesn’t dwell too much on it.

 

“What happened there?” Seungkwan hums.

 

“Wonwoo brought me home on Friday night, and we went out to eat, and then we went back to my place and made out, and I could tell that Wonwoo kinda wanted to fuck, but I don’t know, I wasn’t feeling it, and I guess I might have guilted him to staying, but he didn’t complain, and we slept together, like literally slept, and it was nice, and I thought that things would be fine, and now he’s acting like nothing happened, and he got annoyed when I came in and insulted my job!” Once he finishes blurting it all out, Junhui realizes that he probably spilled way more than he needed to, but Seungkwan is just so easy to talk to that it all sort of came out.

 

Seungkwan rubs Junhui’s back reassuringly. “Aw, you poor thing. Wonwoo really is a dick, you know?”

 

“I know,” Junhui mumbles.

 

“But underneath all that moping, he really is a sweet guy. Maybe he’s having an off day?”

 

Junhui groans. “That’s what I thought, but when I tried to cheer him up, he just, like, lost it.”

 

“Do you think there’s a reason he might be upset with you, then?”

 

“I mean,” Junhui bites his lip, hating to even consider the possibility. “Maybe he’s pissed that I didn’t want to have sex with him? Or maybe he realized that he doesn’t like me after all? I don’t know, there are so many possibilities,” he sighs.

 

“Junnie,” Seungkwan says firmly, placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. “If someone is giving you shit for not wanting to have sex with them, then you need to drop them.” He tilts his head to the side in thought and purses his lips. “But I know Wonwoo, and as awful as he might seem at times, that’s just not something he would do. Just try to talk to him, sweetie, and maybe he’ll realize that he’s being difficult.”

 

“Maybe…”

 

Seungkwan shakes his head. “Maybe isn’t good enough. Maybe doesn’t change anything. If you want yourself some of Wonwoo’s ass, then you’re gonna need a ‘definitely.’”

 

He knows it’s the right thing to at least give Wonwoo a chance to explain himself, but damn, Junhui lives to be petty. But then again, the prospect of Wonwoo’s ass is a promising one…

 

Junhui rolls his eyes. “ _ Definitely _ .”

 

***

 

“Hey, have you seen Wonwoo?” Junhui asks as Jihoon rushes by.

 

The financial manager stops in his tracks, then slowly swivels around to look at Junhui, a scowl on his lips. “Do I look like I know where Wonwoo is off the top of my head?”

 

It’s a legitimate question, Junhui supposes, but other than Soonyoung or Mingyu, Jihoon is the most likely person in their building to know where Wonwoo might be. “I mean, kinda. You two always have that weird telepathic thing, so I just figured you’d know where he is,” Junhui shrugs.

 

Jihoon scoffs. “Oh, like you and Wonwoo do that weird eye sex thing every fucking second you’re together?” 

 

“Hey!” Junhui’s cheeks instantly turn red, even though it’s hardly new news. He can’t help that he likes staring at Wonwoo. The guy is nice to look at. “We do not!”

 

“Sure, okay.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Look, you’re gonna find Wonwoo in one of three places: in his office, in the break room, or in the maintenance wing. If he’s not in one of those areas, then he’s probably dead.”

 

The maintenance wing? He’d seen Wonwoo walking back and forth from there every now and then, but he never knew why. Wonwoo is in sales, which has nothing at all to do with maintenance, and even if he was going there to show a used vehicle being prepared for sale, he would have a customer with him. But every time, Wonwoo went alone. “Okay, guess I’ll check the maintenance wing, then,” Junhui says as he walks down the hallway and exits the main building. 

 

“Woah, are you the new guy that everyone’s been talking about?”

 

Junhui turns to see a young man walking out of the large glass garage doors and into the maintenance lobby. He’s built and good-looking, with soft blonde hair and impossibly long, dark eyelashes. “Um,” Junhui chuckles awkwardly, “Maybe? I mean, I’ve been here for a couple months now.” He decides to leave the part about everyone talking about him alone. 

 

“Really?” The other guy squints in thought as he rubs off some grease from his forearm. “Guess I just never go to the other building. Other than Wonwoo, the maintenance and parts building squad mostly sticks to themselves. Plus, I’m just an intern, so I wouldn’t have gotten invited to any ‘welcome to the team’ ragers that Seungcheol might have thrown.”

 

“Eh, you really didn’t miss much.”

 

The blonde laughs, covering his mouth and nose with his hand in the cutest way possible. “Sounds like Seungcheol to me. I’m Hansol, by the way,” he smiles, shaking Junhui’s hand. 

 

“I’m Jun.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Jun! If you need Soonyoung, he’s over in the parts department, and Mingyu is right there in that office.” He points to the said office, where Junhui can just barely make out Mingyu’s silhouette from behind the frosted glass. 

 

Junhui nods. “Thanks.” He decides to stop by Mingyu first to avoid an unnecessary trip across the building, where Soonyoung’s office is. Quietly, he knocks on Mingyu’s door, hoping he’s not intruding on anything (or anyone- he’s heard tales about Mingyu and Minghao…)

 

“Come in,” Mingyu calls. “Oh, hey Jun!” A bright smile spreads across his face when he sees the secretary. “What’s up?” he asks, not-so-subtly pausing the movie he was watching. 

 

“Do you know where Wonwoo could be?”

 

He didn’t intend for the question to be funny by any means, but for some reason, Mingyu starts to snicker uncontrollably. “Yeah, I do.” He leans back in his chair and points a thumb in the direction of the doors where Hansol had walked out of earlier. “He’s in there, lover boy.”

 

_ What is it with everyone?  _ Junhui shoots Mingyu some finger guns. “Got it, thanks.”

 

As he’s opening the door on his way out, Mingyu snaps his fingers. “Yo, just a word to the wise.” He smirks deviously. “Don’t nosebleed all over my garage, m’kay?”

 

He isn’t quite sure what to make of that sentence, so he just smiles blankly and nods before closing the door behind him. With every step towards the garage doors, Mingyu’s words run through his head.  _ Lover boy? Nosebleed?  _ The way Mingyu said it makes it sound like Junhui is about to walk in on Wonwoo stripping or something, which is not such an entirely bad concept, Junhui has to admit.

 

Cautiously, he enters the garage, glass doors automatically sliding open to reveal a massive hangar filled with cars in various states of repair, some on the floor and others raised on high metal platforms. Junhui walks forward, jaw hanging open, as he takes in everything: the bright overhead lights, the smell of oil and gasoline, and the impossibly spotless state of the white polished tile floor. 

 

But what catches Junhui’s attention the most is the guy in the back of the garage, bent over the hood of an A6, wrench in hand. It’s not a strip tease, but Junhui is pretty sure it’s better. He pauses a few feet behind Wonwoo to watch him work, mesmerized by the way his shoulders and back muscles flex with every movement; only a thin, white, sweat-soaked t-shirt obstructs Junhui’s view of the smooth skin underneath. 

 

Junhui can feel his knees grow weak as Wonwoo leans forward to mess with something near the engine; the hem of his shirt rides up to hint at his lower back, sparkling under the garage lights. Sure, he’s made out with Wonwoo, but something about the way he works on the car is so sensual that it makes Junhui feel things he never even realized it could feel. 

 

“How long are you just gonna stand there watching me?”

 

Words cannot begin to describe what Junhui’s heart does when Wonwoo turns around to face him. His hair is damp with sweat, and it sticks to his forehead so carelessly, and Junhui thinks it’s the sexiest thing humanly possible when Wonwoo reaches up to wipe it away with the towel that was resting on his shoulder, and God, he’s so fucking whipped for this guy. “I, uh, I-I’m sorry,” he stammers, swallowing thickly and trying as hard as he can not to stare so intensely anymore. 

 

Wonwoo exhales deeply, closes the hood, and proceeds to sit on it, bending one long leg on the hood, and letting the other hang down.  _ Damn _ , Junhui gasps to himself. Yeah, he’s still pissed at Wonwoo, but when he’s looking like that, he can have Junhui however he wants. 

 

“What do you want, Jun?” Wonwoo sighs, throwing the towel back over his shoulder and running a hand through his hair. 

 

_ I want you to do me right here, right now.  _ “I… I want to know why you’re being such a dick to me. I try to be nice and make you coffee, and what do you do? Get annoyed with me and insult my job. And, you know, I was kind of offended by that.” Though he’s trying his best to convey his dissatisfaction with Wonwoo’s behavior, much of the conviction is lost due to his wavering tone and wandering eyes.

 

The man in front of him just closes his eyes and tilts his head back in irritation. “Jun, just chill. It’s not a big-”

 

“I just want to know why, Wonwoo! What did I do? Is this because of what happened Friday night? Look, when I said I didn’t want to fuck, I wasn’t rejecting you. I just… I was too worried about Mingming to get into it then, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you or that I wouldn’t want to do it some other time, and-”

 

“Jun!” Wonwoo covers his eyes with his hand and lets out an angry breath. “Will you just calm down and let it go?!” 

 

Wonwoo’s deep voice echoes through the garage, sending shivers through Junhui’s body. Junhui knows he should just shut up and let Wonwoo be and forget about everything and move on with his life, since clearly, Wonwoo isn’t interested in pursuing things any further. But something inside of Junhui can’t seem to accept that. The way Wonwoo looked at him the other night, the way Wonwoo makes him feel inside… He doesn’t want to think that all of that was just meaningless. He has to give it one last shot, because he knows Wonwoo sure as hell won’t. 

 

“No, I’m not going to let this go!” he shouts back, stepping closer to Wonwoo. “‘Cause you mean a whole fucking lot to me.” Junhui reaches out and takes Wonwoo’s hands, leading him over to the wall behind the car. 

 

Gently, but firmly, he presses Wonwoo’s back against the pristine white wall and presses his lips against his. It subsequently terrifies and thrills Junhui to have this much power, to be the one commanding the other’s body, but he can definitely agree that it feels good. His hands drop to Wonwoo’s hips, fingers curling around the taller man’s belt loops as he deepens the kiss, tongue slipping past Wonwoo’s lips. 

 

Wonwoo’s response is more than a little tepid, awkward, and stiff, and so unlike the way he kissed on Friday night. Junhui feels a sickening feeling swirl at the bottom of his stomach, but he continues exploring Wonwoo’s mouth in hopes that the other will eventually just let his guard down. Almost desperately, he reaches for Wonwoo’s hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb and running the other hand through Wonwoo’s hair.

 

“Jun.” Cold black eyes stare back at him, filled with an expression that’s some ugly mix of shock, shame, and anger. Wonwoo takes a sharp step back, violently ripping his hand from Junhui’s grip. 

 

This isn’t at all how Junhui had imagined it going. He’d pictured Wonwoo returning his kiss with an equal passion, soft lips slowly traveling over heated skin and hands sneaking to places where they really shouldn’t go in public places. Instead, he gets a soulless clashing of mouths, ultimately ending in Wonwoo getting upset, probably.  _ Remind me again why you’re so whipped for him? _

 

“Wait, what ha-”

 

The sales rep furiously fixes his hair, looking through Junhui to see his reflection in the car windows. “I have a 2:30 appointment. I need to go.”

 

So Junhui lets him, lets him storm out of the garage and throw his towel on the floor like a little boy throwing a temper tantrum. He doesn’t bother to yell back, or beg Wonwoo to stay if he doesn’t want to, or inform him that it’s only 1:05. He’s tired of wasting his time trying to elevate Wonwoo from his usual sorry state. For a second there, he really thought he’d broken through the ice, but Junhui just has to face the fact that he’s too naive in love to understand the difference between love and lust.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdfghjkjhgfdfghj WONWOO! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS ??? sorry, but wonwoo is just a pain in the ass! hopefully he'll come around and realize that he's an idiot. 
> 
> ...i'm saying this like i'm not the one writing the story, but I digress, as usual...
> 
> come holla on tumblr @thesoapclub yeah boi
> 
> country boy, i love you,  
> hedgehogwatch


	5. Q5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, just a heads up.. there’s a point in this chapter where one character gives another character a playlist... if you click on the link, it’ll actually take you to said playlist.  
> hey, that’s pretty good...

* * *

Hands clenched into tight fists, Wonwoo walks out of the garage, making sure to hurry out before Mingyu sees him. By some miracle, he’s able to escape unnoticed, and he quickly heads for the bathroom. The moment he steps in there, he’s assaulted with memories of a few months prior, when he had busted his lip, and Junhui had to clean it up for him, and that just makes Wonwoo want to cry. He hates the person he’s become, constantly pushing Junhui away when all the guy wants is some reciprocation. The only thing Wonwoo wants is to hold Junhui in his arms and give him endless affection, but he can’t. He just can’t.

“Well, someone looks a little disheveled today.”

Wonwoo snaps his head around to see Joshua Hong standing right behind him, hands folded primly under his chin. The look in his rival sales representative’s eyes burns with the fiery judgement of an angry preacher. “Joshua,” Wonwoo smiles fakely, tapping his fingers against his thigh, “What brings you to the maintenance wing?”

Joshua gives Wonwoo a glittering smile, blinding white teeth on proud display. “I should ask you the same.” His scrutinizing gaze sweeps over Wonwoo’s body, and suddenly Wonwoo realizes why. His hair is messed up, his cheeks are flushed, and his lips are swollen- there’s no possibly way he can get out of this. “You are aware that it is highly unprofessional to be having an affair with a co worker, Wonwoo,” Joshua hisses.

The sheer irony of the situation makes Wonwoo want to laugh in Joshua Hong’s pretty face. He wishes he could erase from his memory all of the times that he’s walked in on Joshua and Jeonghan making out. How dare he make a comment on his relationship- not relationship- with Junhui?

Apparently, Joshua Hong is a mind reader. “And before you say anything snide, Jeonghan and I are married, and we were married before we started working here.”

“So you were just… watching us?” Wonwoo squints in disbelief. On top of all the self-loathing he’s already undergoing, the fact that Joshua Hong saw him kiss Junhui makes him want to vomit. “What the fuck, Joshua?”

“I’d watch my language if I were you.” A menacing frown spreads across Joshua’s face, and despite his sweet eyes and dainty facial features, he looks kind of terrifying. “And I was not watching you. I was checking on the maintenance state of a Q5 that I’m preparing to sell, and what do I see? Two immature boys getting it on in the back corner. Really, Wonwoo? The _secretary_?” he scoffs.

In that moment, Wonwoo wants to just fucking die. Drop dead to the floor. What he intended- well, didn’t really intend- to be just a harmless fling has now been exposed, and by Joshua Hong of all people. And, despite everything, Wonwoo still doesn’t like the way Joshua referred to Junhui as ‘the secretary,’ or the tone with which he said it. “Why don’t you mind your fucking business?” Wonwoo barks, straightening his posture.

“Why don’t you watch your mouth!”

“Why don’t you watch your back!” Fuming, Wonwoo leaves the bathroom, making sure to push Joshua’s shoulders on the way out, lightly enough so that he doesn’t get fired for harassment, but enough that he gets the point across.

***

When Wonwoo walks into his office the next morning, there isn’t a cup of coffee on his desk, or a note, or Junhui’s smiling face. All that’s there is a piece of cheap wood and some irrelevant papers. It’s not like he expected Junhui to bring him coffee after what happened the day before, but for some reason, it still stings a little.

He takes a deep breath and sits down at his desk, forcefully trying to convince himself that everything is normal. Because it is. He’s slept with people and never pursued a relationship beyond that. He’s gotten mad at people, and people have gotten mad at him, and he’s felt just fine afterward. Why, then, does he feel so shitty right now?

“Hey, I have some papers for you. Bright and early.” Wonwoo’s heart drops when he sees Chan walking in with the updated lot specs now that they’ve gotten a new inventory of Q7s. Normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it- as an intern, Chan usually pops in and helps out wherever he can. Except it had always been Junhui that brought him the lot specs, without fail.

Wonwoo nods and sets aside some other papers to make room for the new ones. “Thanks,” he sighs, taking the stack from Chan’s hand.

“You ok, boss?” Wonwoo almost chuckles. Boss. Chan’s lips are drawn in a concerned frown, hands clasped behind his back.

It’s sweet that Chan is worried about him, but Wonwoo really doesn’t feel like talking about his feelings at the moment. Or at any time, really. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little decaffeinated, you know?” He does his best to give Chan a half hearted smile, if only to ease the intern’s nerves.

“I feel,” Chan nods. “Do you want me to get you some coffee?”

“Nah.” That was Junhui’s job. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get myself some later. You’ve got more important things to do.”

Chan doesn’t seem entirely convinced that Wonwoo would really rather get up and get his own coffee, but there are more pressing things on Wonwoo’s mind. “Okay then. Just let me know if you need anything,” he shrugs before walking out.

Reluctantly, Wonwoo pulls himself out of his chair and stumbles to the staff lounge for some coffee so he’s not a zombie for the rest of the day. He’s thankful no one else is around, not for any particular reason other than he doesn’t want to talk to anyone but Junhui. And Junhui probably doesn’t want to talk to him either.

He grabs an Audi coffee mug from the rack, sets the coffee machine to his usual setting, and leans his back against the counter as he waits for it to brew.

And, like a scene straight from a Hallmark movie, Junhui walks in.

But it’s not just Junhui, it’s Junhui and Minghao, and they’re both chatting excitedly to each other in Chinese. Wonwoo knew that both of them were Chinese, but he had never heard either of them speak it before. The sound of their conversation was brighter and livelier than the way spoken Korean sounds, but for some reason it makes Wonwoo suddenly feel small and foreign in his own country. The way the words roll so effortlessly off of Junhui’s tongue reminds him that every time Junhui speaks in Korean, it’s forced and unnatural for him. Just like their interactions lately.

Neither Junhui nor Minghao acknowledge Wonwoo’s presence. They huddle around the other side of the counter and each grab a muffin before leaving just as quickly as they came. Wonwoo swears he saw Junhui look back at him for a fraction of a second, but it’s so brief that he doesn’t want to give himself false hope.

‘ _False hope? This is what you wanted. He finally gets the idea that you don’t want to go out with him, and now you can finally breathe easy without feeling guilty about leading him on,’_ Wonwoo tells himself as he gets his coffee out from under the machine. He doesn’t bother to put the usual pack of artificial sweetener. He’s too depressed for sugar right now.

On the way back to his office, Junhui passes him in the hallway, and this time he really does look back at Wonwoo. The blankness in his stare makes Wonwoo almost wish he didn’t, though.

With every subsequent step, the realization hits Wonwoo that he’s just caused the very thing he’d been trying so hard to avoid in the first place: he’s caused Junhui pain. The whole reason he wanted to keep Junhui away was so that he wouldn’t get hurt by Wonwoo’s emotional incapabilities, but it turns out that doing so only hurt Junhui anyway.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits back down in his chair, snapshots of his memories with Junhui playing back in his head like a photo album. Junhui is still way too good for him, and he still deserves someone so much better, but maybe they can be friends, Wonwoo thinks. Maybe. It’s hard when Junhui looks the way he does and when Wonwoo’s heart does the thing it does when he’s around Junhui, but he figures it’s better than nothing.

So he does what he does worst: try to find a way to extend an offer of friendship. He’s pretty sure Junhui would just ignore him like he did earlier if he just went up to talk to him, and he’s not good enough with his words to write a letter. But music… That he’s good at.

Instead of pulling up his client schedule for the day, Wonwoo pulls up Spotify and quickly creates a new playlist, titled [“hey, i’m sorry. maybe we can be friends?”](https://open.spotify.com/user/nor_86/playlist/4aU2ML2nwvXRSsoZvmCwaV?si=zQNN4dveQpCU_ZKVJeUv1w)He knows it’s cheesy and dumb, but it beats every other option. Plus, even if Junhui declines his offer, he can still get to listen to some bland 90’s to early 2000’s pop-rock. That’s a plus, right?

He adds some Matchbox Twenty, Semisonic, Goo Goo Dolls, and The Killers songs (plus some Green Day and Pearl Jam to spice things up) then sends the playlist to Junhui. Sure, Wonwoo realizes he doesn’t have the best music taste, but at least he’s not pretentious about it like some people he knows…

The rest of the day passes pretty uneventfully; Wonwoo sells two of the new Q7’s and a 2011 A4, all of his clients are pretty well-behaved, and he doesn’t see Joshua or Jeonghan. He exhales deeply as he finally gets back to his office after helping his last client move his things from his old car to his new one, finally relieved to be done with the worst of the day. Quickly, he goes to check his email to see if Junhui responded, only to find his inbox empty, save for an email from Samsung notifying him that they’re having a two-day sale on the new Galaxy phones.

“You didn’t put ‘Never Let You Go’ by Third Eye Blind on the playlist.”

Wonwoo looks up to see Junhui entering his office and closing the door behind him quietly. He can feel his pulse quicken dramatically as the secretary sits down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. Junhui’s mouth forms a tight line as he looks back at Wonwoo, fingers drumming on the wooden surface. Wonwoo’s voice is weak and small, and all he can get out is a raspy, “Junhui.”

“Wonwoo.” The name has never sounded so cold from Junhui’s lips. A few moments pass between them, neither doing anything but breathing and staring until Junhui breaks the silence again. “How can you put “Semi Charmed Life’ and not ‘Never Let You Go’?” he asks flatly.

“I don’t know.” Wonwoo isn’t quite sure what Junhui is trying to get at here, but he just decides to go along with it. “I just didn’t think it fit in with the vibe.”

Junhui frowns some more. “And ‘Same Old Lang Syne’ does? Wonwoo, that’s a Christmas song from the 70’s.”

“Jun.” Wonwoo swallows and meets Junhui’s icy gaze with the most sincere expression he can muster. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He wait a few seconds for Junhui to reply, but when he doesn’t say anything, Wonwoo decides to keep going. “I really was a dick to you, and you don’t deserve that. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, and I’ve just been awful to you.” His eyes fall again, focusing on his fingers nervously fidgeting on his desk. “So I was wondering if you wanted to be friends.”

“Friends...” The way Junhui says it sounds so empty and hollow, like a voice recording of the real Junhui’s voice.

Wonwoo knows it’s not what Junhui wants. It’s not what he wants, either. But he hopes it’s a happy enough medium to at least placate them both. “Yeah.” He looks into Junhui’s big, sad, beautiful eyes and places his hand on top of the other’s, thumb running across Junhui’s knuckles. “Is that okay with you?” he murmurs.

At the contact, Junhui freezes up and shifts his hand back slightly. “Friends don’t do that, Wonwoo.” His voice breaks when he says it, like he’s holding back tears, which only makes Wonwoo want to cry as well. All Wonwoo wants is for Junhui to call him “Won” and hold his hand and kiss his lips and just be happy. But this is good. This is the best thing for both of them.

“Oh… Sorry,” Wonwoo mumbles as he pulls his own hand away awkwardly.

Junhui’s expression softens as he sees Wonwoo biting his lip and struggling to find words. “I wanna be friends, Wonwoo. Just, let’s ease into this- friendship,” he quickly adds the last bit, for clarification. “I’m still hurting, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I ignored you earlier.”

“Don’t be sorry. All of this is my fault.” Wonwoo just wants to throw his arms around Junhui and kiss everything better and tell him that he’s sorry he’s such a piece of shit, but he’d be his piece of shit if Junhui wanted. Instead, he sits still in his chair and nods his head awkwardly. “Do you still need rides home?” Yesterday, Junhui had somehow managed to get Mingming to pick him up, and Wonwoo’s ride home alone seemed so much worse than normal.

The secretary hums. “If you don’t mind. Look, let’s just forget that happened, yeah? Start new as friends.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Junhui nods, then gives Wonwoo a small, dim smile. “So are you going to add ‘Never Let You Go’ to the playlist, or no?”

Wonwoo chuckles softly. “Absolutely not.”

***

“So was that you fucking Jun in the bathroom stall next to us?” Mingyu asks, motioning for Wonwoo to pass him the wrench.

Wonwoo scoffs, handing it over. “Nope. We agreed to be friends.”

“Friends?!” Mingyu nearly drops the wrench, turning to Wonwoo with a look of pure horror on his face. “What the fuck, Wonwoo? I thought you wanted to rail his fine ass so hard he’d be seeing stars the next day.”

“First of all, those were not my exact words. Second of all-” he pauses to pick up a screwdriver from the adjacent table. “I most certainly would like to engage in such activity, but it’s in our best interests that we stay in a completely platonic relationship.”

Mingyu stares at him for a few seconds, then purses his lips and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Sure. I totally, one hundred percent buy that.” He steps back and closes the hood of the car before leaning against it, head propped up on his elbow.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than having him mad at me.”

“But I know you, Wonwoo, and I know you want some Vitamin D, know’m i’m sayin?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Especially!” Mingyu jabs a finger at Wonwoo’s nose, “When he looks as sexy as Jun does, like, you know I’m dating Minghao, but-”

Wonwoo gasps. “You’re dating Minghao?! Like dating dati-”

“Pretend I never said that! What I was saying is that,” he lets out a considerably inappropriate moan, tilting his head back, “ _Maaaan_ , Junhui is so hot. If I wasn’t all up in Minghao’s ass, you know I would tap that. Like, _uuuuuh_ , his _thighs!_ Like, yes, Minghao, but _Junhui_ …”

Something about Mingyu’s strange display makes Wonwoo’s stomach churn. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Junhui and Mingyu together, which, for some reason, makes him feel violently ill. “What the heck, Mingyu? You know I like Jun! Why would you...”

Silence falls upon both of them. It is then that Wonwoo realizes he has fucked up.

Cold sweat runs down Wonwoo’s back as his words ring in his ears on a constant loop. _‘I like Jun, I like Jun, I like Jun.’_ “Fuck,” he breathes.

“You were saying?” Mingyu asks, a disgustingly smug grin slapped across his face. “So you like Jun, huh? I did some of my magic on you, and it worked, huh? I made you get possessive and consider the fact that now that since he’s your ‘friend,’ anyone can make a move on him and it’s perfectly fine, because you’re not dating him. You’re. Just. Friends.” He looks at Wonwoo’s face, clearly mid-existential crisis by the sales representative’s expression, and laughs. “Still wanna be ‘just friends’ now, Wonwon? That what you want, Wonwon?”

Of course it’s not what he wants. But damn it, he doesn’t have a choice. It’s the only way that he can not break Junhui’s heart but still get to be around him. “It’s what I’ve got to do, Gyu. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” Mingyu shrugs. “You emo types are tough nuts to crack.” Suddenly, Mingyu freezes. “Wait, speaking of nuts.” He turns to Wonwoo, eyes wide with fear. “If you and Junhui weren’t fucking in the bathroom, then who was?” His tone is hushed, yet dramatic, like he’s in a B-list horror movie.

Wonwoo throws his hands up. “You think I’d know? Who did it sound like? Was this the employee bathroom or the regular one?”

“Well…” Mingyu taps a finger to his chin. “Employee. One of the voices was pretty deep, so I thought it was you, and the other was kinda soft, which I assumed was Jun. Know anyone who fits that criteria?”

Indisputably, Wonwoo had the deepest voice at Audi Central Seoul. The next deepest would probably be Seungcheol. And as far as soft voices go, there was one whose angelic voice was so oft-mocked between the other employees that it was practically iconic. “My guess? Seungcheol and Joshua,” Wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” Mingyu gasps. “But Joshua is married! To Jeonghan! Who’s pretty sexy, I cannot lie…”

“Yeah, but have you heard of this Thing!” Wonwoo mocks Mingyu’s excitable tone. “Called cheating! That people do when they’re just not satisfied with their current relationship!”

Mingyu shakes his head. “There’s no way it’s them. It was probably Seungcheol and Jihoon, or Soonyoung and Jihoon, or Jihoon and himself, just making different-pitched noises so other people don’t judge him for being chronically single. I’m going to prove you wrong, just like I proved that you like Junhui!” he declares proudly.

“Wha- I do-” Then, Wonwoo realizes he can’t really deny it. He does like Junhui. He really does. “Well, if I end up being right about Joshua and Seungcheol, then you owe me a burger.”

“Oh yeah? What the fuck? Step the fuck up, Wonwoo!”

“You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up!” Wonwoo yells as he walks back to the locker room to change his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? Not everything has to be depressing all the time! Just sometimes.. most of the time... (wake me up inside).....  
> anyway, yeah so homeboys are just “friends” mhm yeah. also why is mingyu cardi b? why are there sudden vine references? (Who was getting it on in th bathroom...?) 
> 
> idk y’all those are questions for the Illuminati
> 
> also please note that I love Joshua but it’s so funny making him the antagonist y’all don’t understand
> 
> Peace out, homies I love you,  
> hegehogwatch


	6. update

Hi guys,

Recently I suffered a really bad concussion, so I’ve been unable to write for a while and won’t be able to for a few months. I’m not abandoning this fic, but my brain just isn’t what it used to be right now, and the screen light is very painful. 

Please take care of yourselves and hopefully I will return to this story when I recover. 

 

Best wishes,

hedgehogwatch

EDIT: I’m home from the hospital now, so hopefully it shouldn’t be longer than a month and a half before I finish the next chapter. Thank you all for your sweet messages <3 I love y’all!


	7. Q6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack! sorry it took so long- it's been a rough recovery... but I didn't want to leave y'all hanging! hopefully this chapter will answer some pressing questions from last chapter ..... ;) hopefully the next update will be soon!
> 
> love ya,   
> hedgehogwatch

“So how is being ‘friends’ going?”

 

Junhui shrugs and swirls the stirrer around his coffee absentmindedly. “It’s really not so bad. Maybe he’s even right that we’re better as friends. Not like we were ever anything more than friends in the first place.”

 

Seokmin doesn’t seem convinced. “Seriously?” he huffs, following Junhui’s stirrer with his eyes like a cat. “‘Cause if I’ve got this story straight, then if you hadn’t freaked out at the last minute, y’all were planning on getting nasty that night. And that doesn’t sound like a ‘friend’ activity to me.”

 

“Okay, then maybe we were planning on being friends with benefits or something, but that’s still technically ‘friends.’ And either way, we’re just  _ platonic _ friends now, and it’s not so bad. End of discussion.”

 

It’s true, really. Through the past few weeks, Wonwoo and Junhui had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Their stiff faces had softened into smiles, and after a week or so Wonwoo started to laugh again, that genuine laugh that makes his nose crinkle and makes Junhui’s heart melt. Wonwoo would still bring him home from work, but he didn’t walk him inside like he used to. Junhui would still bring Wonwoo coffee in the morning, but he didn’t write a note or draw a heart like he used to. They still went out to get Thai food on Fridays, but there was no flirty banter. They just talked about the food. And the weather. And work. And a part of Junhui wanted more, but this was  _ comfortable _ . 

 

“Whatever you say,” Seokmin sighs, standing up and stretching with a loud yawn. “I’m gonna go get some coffee of my own. Need anything from the break room?”

 

Junhui shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though,” he says before going back to the spreadsheet he was working on earlier.

 

“Boo!”

 

Snickering behind him is Wonwoo, covering his nose and mouth with his hand and shaking with every laugh like a leaf in the breeze. “Damn it,” Wonwoo wheezes, trying to compose himself. “I was hoping you’d spill your coffee on yourself and I’d finally be able to get back at you for that one time.”

 

It feels just like when they had first met, as though nothing had happened between them. And he’s right- it’s comfortable. But he has to admit, it feels more than a little empty and unnatural. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to keep trying,” Junhui smiles, more of a quirk of the lips than anything. 

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and leans his back against the edge of Junhui’s desk. “So we’re still on for Lotus Blossom tonight?”

 

“I mean, it’s a Friday. I thought that was a given.” Junhui doesn’t know why he’s being so short, but everything Wonwoo has said so far has reminded him of that night.  _ That night _ , the one everyone seems to know happened, but no one seems to know exactly  _ what _ happened. Not even Junhui.

 

“If you’d rather starve, you’re welcome to it.”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

 

“Meet me by my car at 5. I know a great place that serves air.” A small smirk plays on Wonwoo’s lips as he stands up straight and walks back to his office.

 

***

 

Junhui looks out the window of Wonwoo’s car and furrows his eyebrows. “Where are you going, Won? I thought we were going to eat at Lotus Blossom.”

 

“I told you,” Wonwoo smiles, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel as he parks his car on the side of the road near the Seongsan Bridge, “We’re getting some air, not Thai food. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? So come on!” He turns to Junhui, still wearing that stupid grin, unbuckles his seat belt, and dashes off toward the Han River. 

 

“I swear to God, you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met,” Junhui grumbles as he gets out of the car.

 

Wonwoo is already several steps ahead of him, practically jogging down the steps to the small concrete ledge under the bridge. Seeing the normally-grumpy man so excited and carefree elicits a small laugh from Junhui. The clear lack of coordination in his long limbs, the tiny flecks of snow gathering in his dark hair, the pink dusting his cheeks and nose when he looks back at Junhui to make sure he’s keeping up- they all make Junhui’s heart stir in all the wrong places. Quickly, he shakes his head, trying to physically empty of those thoughts, and runs after Wonwoo.

 

When he finally reaches the sales rep, Wonwoo is already sitting cross-legged at the very end of the ledge, keeping his hands warm under his knees. “I thought you were never gonna make it.” He chuckles and gestures for Junhui to sit down next to him, a wild yet wistful look in his eye. 

 

“Neither did I.” Junhui stretches before sitting down next to Wonwoo, taking extra precaution to make sure their knees don’t touch. “So,” Junhui starts, clearing his throat, “What exactly is the point of all this?” He glances over at the few centimeters of space between their legs, then directs his eyes to the water. It’s pretty, objectively, but it’s almost too dark to see anything at all, and Junhui just can’t comprehend why Wonwoo would want to bring him here, of all places. 

 

A tiny smirk graces Wonwoo’s lips before he turns to check his phone. “You’ll see in,” he pauses for a second, eyes flickering back and forth from his phone to the underside of the bridge above them, “Three, two, one.”

 

“Uh, what’s supposed to be-”

 

“Shhh!” Wonwoo places a finger against Junhui’s lips, then points it at the bridge. Suddenly, the bridge lights up, a soft golden glow bathing the sparkling water beneath, and in that moment, Junhui  _ gets it _ . There’s no colorful light show or water spouts like the Banpo Bridge, but there’s something oddly magical about the way the light illuminates the icicles hanging from above and makes the water look like a glittering sea of gold. “Isn’t it beautiful,” Wonwoo says quietly, almost reverently.

 

Junhui nods and meets Wonwoo’s gaze for the first time in what seems like forever. The angles of his face are sharp as ever, but somehow Wonwoo seems softer than Junhui remembered. The light from the bridge is refracted in Wonwoo’s eyes, making it seem like they’re made of stars. “Yeah, it really is.”

 

Just as Junhui finds himself getting lost in thought, Wonwoo turns his beautiful face away and looks out over the water. The overhead light outlines his striking profile, and Junhui can’t help but notice the tiny snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes. He looks pensive all of a sudden, a harsh contrast to his whimsical persona of a few minutes ago. “I really love the water,” he exhales. “It’s calming to just sit and look at it. But I…” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes still trained on the river. “I’m terrified of it.” The empty laugh that follows makes Junhui’s heart sink. Once again, he’s back to the same old bitter Wonwoo, the one that broke his heart, not the one that captured it. 

 

“Why?” Junhui asks flatly, prying his eyes away from Wonwoo’s face. 

 

The taller man’s lips tighten, and he hugs his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “When I was little, I went to the beach with my family. The whole way there, I was dead set on just jumping in the ocean and swimming all the way to Japan.” He chuckles and gives Junhui a half hearted smile. “Yeah, I know. It was stupid, but seven-year-old Wonwoo was beyond certain that he could do it and be back in time for dinner, too. So naturally, when we finally got to the water, I wanted to go in as far as I could. The thing I didn’t consider was that the farther you go, the deeper the water gets, and before I knew it, I was literally in over my head. The tide got the best of me, and I started to drift out.”

 

“Where were your parents?”

 

Wonwoo shrugs. “Playing with my baby brother, probably. It took my dad twenty minutes to realize I was out there drowning. And once he rescued me, he got mad at me for going in too deep. Can you believe that?”

 

“Well,” Junhui tilts his head to the side, still avoiding looking at the man next to him, “It kind of was your fault,” he says, leaning back to rest on his elbows. 

 

“To an extent, maybe. But the bottom line is that none of this would have happened if he was watching me the whole time. I was young. I didn’t know any better.” Despite the fact that he was simply recalling a childhood memory, his voice sounds heavy and strained for some reason. 

 

It’s unsettling to Junhui, to say the least. “Wonwoo, what’s the point of this story?”

 

There’s a long pause, only cold breaths leaving cold lips, before Wonwoo finally answers. “After that, I… I could never get back in the water. I haven’t ever since,” he murmurs.

 

No matter how hard Junhui tries, he still can’t really understand what Wonwoo’s really trying to say, but he’s pretty sure it’s his way of trying to get something off his chest. Obviously, the issue runs much deeper than alleviating his fear of swimming. “I think you should try again.”

 

At that, Wonwoo turns his head in Junhui’s direction, but still doesn’t look him in the eye. “What was that?”

 

“Getting in the water. I think you should try getting in the water again.” He swallows, unable to shake the feeling that this is some kind of extended metaphor. “Just because you had a bad experience with it once doesn’t mean that the same thing is going to happen every time. If you live your life like that, shutting down when something goes wrong, you run the risk of missing out on something you never even knew you might like.” For some reason, Junhui so badly wants to add _“or love_ ” to the end of the sentence.

 

“You think so?” Wonwoo’s words trail off into the night air as puffs of fog.

 

Junhui nods. “Yeah.” 

 

There’s something about their present state that makes Junhui feel endlessly cold inside, regardless of the temperature. Two people sitting close together, gazing over the water and sparing short, shy glances at the lines and curves of the other’s faces… Damn it, they should be lovers. They should be boyfriends. Junhui should be able to lean over and kiss the snowflakes off of Wonwoo’s cheekbone, or warm Wonwoo’s hand in his own, or even just sit there next to him and not worry about the soul-crushing emptiness between them. Maybe he thought it was nice to be friends at first, but now, Junhui realizes it’s just fucking suffocating. This moment could be so nice and so beautiful, and he could be so happy if Wonwoo would just break down his walls for once and let him in. 

 

But no, Wonwoo’s just a fucking masochist who wants nothing more than to drown in his own self-pity. 

 

“I’m sorry to keep you for so long. This was really awkward, and you must be starving.” 

 

“Is Lotus Blossom still open at this point?”

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and checks his phone. “It’s only been fifteen minutes, Jun. Of course it’s still open.”

 

“Fifteen minutes?” Junhui asks, furrowing his brows. “Seemed like a damn eternity,” he mutters under his breath.

 

“Ready to go?” Wonwoo yawns as he stands up, offering a hand to help Junhui up.

 

Junhui looks at the outstretched hand hesitantly. He remembers how Wonwoo’s hand felt intertwined with his own, and how it felt on his skin, and in his hair. He remembers how the sales rep would always fold his hands when he talked about work, and how he would tap his fingers against the desk excitedly when he talked about his favorite video games or movies. Now, Wonwoo just keeps his hands stiffly at his sides or in his pockets when he talks to Junhui, even though he’s trying his best to be friendly. That’s what always gives it away, the rift between them.

 

He doesn’t take it. Instead, Junhui stands up on his own, dusts himself off, and walks toward the car, not bothering to wait for Wonwoo. 

***

“Good morning, Junhui,” Joshua Hong smiles, gliding over to his desk. “How are you?”

 

_ Terrible, now that you’re here.  _ “I’m fine. And yourself?” he asks, trying to look as pleasant as possible. 

 

“I’m fine as well.” An unnervingly white smile spreads across Joshua’s face as he looks down at Junhui like a tiger sizing up its prey. “I have something to discuss with you, however. Come take a walk with me.” His voice is gentle, but Junhui can sense the unyielding command undercutting it, and Junhui isn’t about to invoke the wrath of Joshua Hong.

 

A cold sweat runs down the back of Junhui’s neck as he stands up and makes his way to the sales rep. What could he have possibly done to warrant such delightful company? “Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, what is this abo-”

 

“All in good time, Junhui.” Joshua smiles brightly before walking to down the hall at his usual brisk pace, presumably heading in the direction of the file room. His steps are eerily mechanic, which doesn’t help to dispel the rumors that Joshua Hong is actually a hyper-realistic humanoid robot hell-bent on destroying the Earth. “So,” he drawls, stopping in front of the file room. “You remember how I asked you to bring me the full inventory of pre-owned Q3 models yesterday?”

 

That sounds vaguely familiar, so Junhui nods affirmatively. “Yes?” he asks, almost not wanting to know the answer.

 

“Well, when I went to find Q3 models for my 8AM client,” Joshua purses his lips and folds his hands underneath his chin, “It came to my attention that you gave me the Q5 models instead.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have gotten-”

 

“No!” Joshua snaps, stepping right in front of Junhui’s face and backing him into the file room. “Sorry won’t cut it! I’ve gone two weeks with a perfect sales record, and you single handedly ruined it! And I know why,” he hisses. “It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?! That good for nothing pretty boy has gotten your head full of his stupidly pretty face, and it’s affecting your work!”

 

Before Junhui has the opportunity to bitch slap him, a rather disturbing sound cuts him off. 

 

“Ahhhh! Seungcheol!” 

 

Both Junhui and Joshua immediately turn their heads to the far corner of the file room. The lights are off in the back, but Junhui can distinctly make out two figures.

 

“Jeonghan?!” Joshua screeches, storming over to the light switch and flipping it on violently. His jaw drops in horror as the situation is brought to light. “Seungcheol?!”

 

The hairs on the back of Junhui’s neck stand on end as he looks over at Jeonghan and Seungcheol, standing in the corner and looking like deer in headlights. It’s not hard for him to deduce what was happening; Jeonghan’s hair is a complete mess, Seungcheol’s shirt is unbuttoned, and both of their belts are unbuckled. 

 

As much as Junhui appreciates good drama, he doesn’t want to be caught in the crossfire of World War III. Quietly, he sneaks to the exit, hoping no one will see him.

 

“Stay where you are, Junhui!” Joshua shouts. 

 

_ Well, shit. _

 

Immediately, Joshua fixes his murderous gaze on Jeonghan and Seungcheol and stalks over to their corner. “Seungcheol! How could you? After everything we’ve been through, you would really betray me like this? You told me I was the best fuck you’ve ever had! Was I not enough for you?!”

 

Junhui feels like he’s just had an aneurysm. “Wait, aren’t you married to Jeonghan, Joshua? Shouldn’t you,” he rubs his temples, trying to sort out this madness, “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be angry at Jeonghan for cheating on you? Your  _ husband _ Jeonghan?”

 

“Oh, I already knew the bastard was cheating on me,” Joshua spits. “With a face like that, what do you expect?” He snaps his head to look over at Seungcheol. “But Cheollie?! That’s one I never saw coming.”

 

Seungcheol quickly tries to button his shirt back up, scrambling away from Jeonghan. “Babe, I’m sorry, I just-”

 

“Save your breath! I thought we had something special, Seungcheol! You said I was your one and only! I was your baby! Did you fuck him in  _ our _ bathroom stall, too? I bet you did, you son of a bitch!” Joshua screams, grabbing a binder off a nearby shelf and hurling it at the wall.

 

“So it was you two that I heard making sex noises in the bathroom yesterday?!” Jeonghan gasps before turning to Seungcheol. “Cheollie? We had sex during your lunch break in your office! You said that  _ I _ was your one and only! And that  _ I _ was the hottest person you’ve ever been with!”

 

_ Poor Seungcheol,  _ Junhui scoffs to himself. He wouldn’t wish an angry Joshua or Jeonghan on anyone, let alone the two of them. 

 

“Hannie, please-“

 

Joshua stomps his foot petulantly. “Only I can call him Hannie!”

 

“I cannot believe you, Cheollie. I really am appalled. You disgust me,” Jeonghan huffs as he waltzes over to Joshua’s side. “Can you believe him? The nerve?” he laughs in disbelief. 

 

“Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.” Joshua shakes his head, then holds out an arm, which Jeonghan promptly latches on to. “Come on, babe. Let’s go.” The couple stomps out of the room, arm in arm, and Junhui catches a snippet of their conversation about someone needing to buy more conditioner, the lavender scented one, not the coconut one. 

 

Junhui looks back at Seungcheol, still standing there in shock and clutching the ends of his belt. “Sorry, boss. Hate to be you,” he shrugs, before walking out. 

 

_ Damn,  _ he sighs to himself when he sits back down at his desk.  _ I’ve never been so tempted to eat an entire box of Tide Pods in my life... _


	8. Q7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sdfgyuikjhvfbjkejhb I am SO sorry that this update took so long, guys :(  
> this chapter is Bad n Sad pls enjoy tho  
> if u want to yell at me just hit up my [tumblr](https://1of1woo.tumblr.com)
> 
> I love u guys so much. thanks 4 being the best :(  
> hedgehogwatch

“Won,” Minghao pants, bursting through the door to Wonwoo’s office. “Big problem.”

 

Wonwoo clenches his jaw at the unwelcome intrusion and finishes typing the last few words of his email before glaring up at his coworker. “What?” he groans after a long, overly-dramatic sigh. 

 

“It’s Jeonghan and Joshua.”

 

“Aren’t they always a big problem?” the sales rep scoffs.

 

“Yeah, but-” Minghao ducks to avoid being hit in the head by the crumpled piece of paper Wonwoo hurled at the trash can across the room, “They’re still necessary employees. And without them, all the work is gonna get piled on you.”

 

It takes a few seconds for the probable implication of Minghao’s words to sink in, but once it hits Wonwoo, he nearly combusts. “Shit,” he hisses, bringing his hands to his temples. “They didn’t quit because of the whole Seungcheol thing, did they?”

 

“Well,” Minghao sighs, “Neither of them have given their two week’s notice, but they haven’t shown up yet, and according to Seokmin, Jeonghan’s next client is scheduled for 9:15.”

 

“Let me guess,  _ I _ need to cover his clients, huh?” Wonwoo groans.

 

Mingao shrugs. “Look on the bright side. That means more commission money for you.”

 

“I guess.” 

 

As irritated as Wonwoo is in the moment, he can’t bring himself to get mad at Minghao. Not only due to the fact that he’s simply the messenger of bad news- Wonwoo had never cared to differentiate in the past- but also because he’s  _ Minghao. _ Ever since he stepped foot through the pristine polished granite floors of Audi Central Seoul, everyone took an instant liking to him, and for no apparent reason. Minghao was introverted, sarcastic, and had undeniable kleptomaniac tendencies (when the Audi windbreakers and baseball caps started mysteriously disappearing from the boutique, the security camera Seungcheol installed finally caught him red-handed). And yet, he’s less volatile than Jihoon, less sulky than Wonwoo, and more tolerable than Jeonghan and Joshua, putting him on the better half of the team.

 

“Well, good luck,” Minghao says, placing the folder with Jeonghan and Joshua’s schedules on Wonwoo’s desk. “You’re gonna need it, judging by the number of clients both of them have today.”

 

“Great,” Wonwoo deadpans, picking up the folders as Minghao walks out of his office. 

 

He takes a cursory glance at the models he’ll need to search the inventory for, skims over the time schedules, then closes the folder and-  _ Shit.  _ He looks over at the clock on his desk only to find it’s 9:17, and his client is already walking through the door. 

 

Frantically, he rips out the client profile sheet from the folder and pulls up the inventory log on his computer before standing up to greet his client, a pregnant woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with short brown hair and soft eyes.

 

“Good morning,” Wonwoo glances down at the sheet, “Mrs. Jang. How are you today?” he asks, shaking her hand from across the desk. 

 

She smiles warmly. “I’m doing well.”

 

“Great. So, what can I do for you today?”

 

“Well,” she begins, placing a hand on her baby bump, “With the twins on the way, my husband and I are going to need something bigger than our sedan.” At that, she turns her head toward the open office door to look out at the hallway. “My husband should be here any minute. He said he was going to go grab me a water bottle, but I think he might have gotten lost. He has a terrible sense of direction,” she laughs.

 

Wonwoo nods, making his best effort to return her smile. “That’s alright. I’m sure he’ll find the sales wing eventually. I can start looking at the models we have here while we wait, if you’d like.”

 

“That would be great.”

 

“So,” Wonwoo says as he begins to type, “Are there any particular models you’re looking at?”

 

“I’m thinking the Q5 would be best for us, but my husband wants to take a look at the Q7 as well.”

 

“Not a problem. New or pre-owned?”

 

“Pre-owned.”

 

“And what price range are we thinking?”

 

“I’d like to stay below 26540000 won.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Wonwoo replies between keyboard and mouse clicks. “So it looks like we’ve got-”

 

“Sorry I’m late!”

 

Mrs. Jang pats the armrest on the seat next to her, instructing her husband to sit down. “I’m so glad you found your way, Doyoon. I was beginning to think you got lost!”

 

_ Doyoon. _ Wonwoo’s heart stops at the sound of that name. Hesitantly, he pulls back from his computer screen and locks eyes with his client’s husband. 

 

He’s not sure whether he wants to scream, or cry, or vomit, but he does know for a fact that it’s the same Doyoon that dragged his navy blue suitcase out of his apartment all those years ago, leaving behind only a ratty Nintendo 64 shirt and his DVD of Season 6 of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. Wonwoo would watch it every now and then when he was feeling especially masochistic, and every viewing session unfailingly ended with him getting blackout drunk, if he wasn’t already. 

 

As much as Wonwoo hates to admit it, Doyoon not only broke his heart, but smashed it into a thousand tiny shards, then ran it over with a steamroller just for good measure. He wasn’t Wonwoo’s first love, but he was certainly his last. He took just about all of Wonwoo’s softness and gentleness with him in that damn suitcase, leaving behind a cold, brittle, pathetic shell of a man. 

 

But what hurts Wonwoo the most is that clearly, Doyoon hadn’t suffered the same pain.

 

No, Doyoon is happily married with twins on the way.

 

“Jeon Wonwoo? Is that really you?” Doyoon beams, chuckling in surprise with that sweet laugh that never failed to make Wonwoo’s heart melt. 

 

_ ‘This is what’s left of me _ ,’ Wonwoo wants to say, but his mind- bless its ability to operate efficiently without Wonwoo’s conscious effort- kicks in and delivers a halfhearted, “Yep. It’s me.”

 

Doyoon shakes his head, still grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, how long has it been?”

 

“Three years, I think.”  _ And somehow in those three years, you’ve managed to get married and start a family while I’m still broken _ . 

 

The older man steps back and gestures to Wonwoo like he’s showing off his prized masterpiece, the beautiful result of his damage. “Mina, this is Wonwoo. We were good friends in college.”

 

Now Wonwoo’s pretty sure he’s going to vomit. “Yeah,” he chokes. “College.” 

 

Quickly, Wonwoo realizes that this is unhealthy territory. Right now, Doyoon is just a client who needs to purchase a car, and he’s there to sell it to him. “So, as I was saying to your wife,” Wonwoo coughs, returning to his computer screen, “We have a good selection of Q5 and Q7 cars in your price range. You’ll probably have a little more selection with the Q7’s, just because that line has been around longer than the Q5’s, but we do have several pre-owned cars of each model.” His voice is trembling as much as his hands are, but all things considered, Wonwoo thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of blocking off his emotions. “Here’s a 2014 Q5 that’s 21230000 won, which is below your budget, and has 45,941 miles on it, if you two want to take a look,” he says as he turns his monitor to show them.

 

“Oh, that one’s nice,” Mina murmurs, chattering with her husband about color and seats and trunk size while Wonwoo stares off into space, trying his best to keep his eyes from wandering over to Doyoon. So many thoughts threaten to rise to the surface of his consciousness:  _ How soon after you left did you start dating your wife? Why didn’t you ever call me? Am I just a ‘friend from college’ to you? _

 

But shutting down is what Wonwoo does best.

 

“We also have a 2013 Q5 in the same price range in black, if you’d be interested in looking at that one as well.”

 

Doyoon purses his lips in thought. “How do the safety ratings compare between the two models?”

 

“Both the Q7 and Q5 have 5-star safety ratings, so either choice is a good one. It all just comes to size, really.” It’s so unnatural being on this end of the conversation with Doyoon. Three years ago, Wonwoo was beyond certain he’d be in Mina’s position, purchasing a family car with his loving husband. Life, however, always has other plans.

 

“I just don’t think we need all that space, honey.” Mina gently places her hand on Doyoon’s forearm. “I don’t want to feel like I’m driving a tank.”

 

“Yes, but think about later down the road. We’re already having twins, and if we ever have another kid, the smaller car might be a little cramped.”

 

Wonwoo shrugs. “We can take a look at both models and test drive them. It’s really no problem.”

 

They all get up, and Wonwoo shows them what they have in the pre-owned lot. Mina and Doyoon go back and forth listing pros and cons of each model. Mina doesn’t like the color. Doyoon doesn’t like the seats. Mina loves how the Q5 drives. Doyoon is still hung up on the trunk size. Eventually, it becomes so monotonous that Wonwoo almost feels as though he’s dealing with just another pair of customers and not his ex and his ex’s wife.

 

“How are we going to fit soccer balls, dance bags, backpacks, and groceries back there?”

 

“Doyoon, it’ll be at least another five years before they’re old enough to do sports and go to school. We can trade in this car for a bigger one when the time comes.”

 

“Yeah, well what about strollers?”

 

“Not only are they foldable, but there’s also plenty enough space in the Q5 for strollers. Honestly, sweetheart, you act like there’s such a huge difference in size, when there really isn’t.”

 

“Look, I’m just saying, Mina…”

 

It goes on and on like that for what seems like hours until Doyoon -ever the people pleaser- caves in and lets Mina get the Q5. The three of them return to Wonwoo’s office, Doyoon with his tail between his legs, Mina with a satisfied smile, and Wonwoo with tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

 

It feels like a leaden weight hanging on his shoulders, the crushing pain of emptiness, loneliness, and regret. It’s so unbelievably clear that Doyoon is so much happier since he left him. Gone are the forced smiles and distant stares, the tense shoulders and habitual wringing of the hands. No, even when he’s roped into getting a car he doesn’t want, Doyoon still looks so much happier, so much freer.

 

And Wonwoo knows it’s all his fault.

 

He’d wonder why Doyoon always seemed shifty despite his constant affirmation of love for him. It wasn’t that Doyoon didn’t like him, or that Doyoon was looking for someone else, but rather because Wonwoo was a fucking dick to him the whole time and didn’t even take the time out to realize it.

 

“Hey Doyoon,” Mina murmurs, leaning toward her husband’s ear. “I need to use the bathroom. Pregnancy poop is a real bitch.” She quickly glances over at Wonwoo to make sure he didn’t hear. 

 

He did, of course, but he wasn’t about to make his client feel embarrassed.

 

“Can you handle the rest by yourself?” she whispers.

 

Doyoon frowns. Yeah, but are you sure you’re going to be okay? Do you need me to help you?”

 

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just sit in the lounge area until you’re done if it shouldn’t be much longer.”

 

A couple moments pass, Doyoon’s eyes flickering back and forth from Mina’s face to her baby bump. “Alright then. Call me if you need help, okay?”

 

“You got it.” Mina stands up with a groan, then sends Wonwoo an apologetic grimace. “I really apologize, but Doyoon is going to have to take the rest from here. Thanks for all your help, Wonwoo. It was really a pleasure to meet you,” she says as she walks toward the door.

 

Wonwoo gives her a small smile. “The pleasure was all mine. I hope you enjoy the new ride.”

 

She gives the sales rep an enthusiastic thumbs-up before slipping out of the room, leaving Wonwoo and Doyoon alone like a cat and a bird trapped in the same cage. 

 

After a few excruciating seconds of silence, Doyoon is the first to make a move. “Look, Wonwoo-”

 

“‘Friends from college?’” Wonwoo nearly growls. In hindsight, he wishes he hadn’t been so antagonistic when this was all his doing, but in the moment, he just couldn’t control himself.

 

Doyoon’s lips tighten as he shakes his head in exasperation. “What was I supposed to say? ‘ _ Oh, hey! This is my ex! So glad you two finally get to me- _ ”

 

Wonwoo slams his hand down on the desk and shoots daggers at the man across from him with his eyes. “We were engaged,” he hisses, quiet but deadly enough to make Doyoon recoil. 

 

A look of pure fear flashes across Doyoon’s face as he sits there in stunned silence, the echoes of bony hands on wood still reverberating through the cramped office room. For a second there, Wonwoo thinks he really is about to start crying. Of course Doyoon is right. Wonwoo would have done the exact same thing were he in the other man’s situation. But he supposes this is what happens when one bottles up their feelings for too long. An explosion is inevitable.

 

Suddenly, Doyoon’s expression turns stern. “You would have never guessed, judging by the way you treated me.”

 

The sales rep opens his mouth to retaliate, but his throat is dry from choking back tears, and more importantly, there’s nothing left to say. It’s true. He never consciously hurt Doyoon while they were together, but he never went out of his way to ask what  _ Doyoon _ wanted and what  _ Doyoon _ needed from him. 

 

His brain starts to short circuit from the sudden rush of hurt, and anger, and guilt, (and for some inexplicable reason, thoughts of Junhui) to the point where he can’t do anything but shut down. Again. 

 

Wonwoo grabs the necessary papers from the printer, paperclips them together, then slides the stack across the desk to Doyoon. “You’ll need to bring these to Jihoon in finance. His office is on the second floor, first door to the left. He’ll take care of your insurance and title.”

 

Doyoon blinks his eyes a few times in disbelief as he picks up the papers with unsteady hands. “Are you really fucking serious, Wonwoo? You’re seriously just going to blow me off like that? Do you know how badly it hurt me to leave? Do you know how much-”

 

“Doyoon,” Wonwoo sighs, burying his head in his hands. “We were both content enough with the ending we both got, and I’m not the kind of guy that needs closure. Jihoon is waiting for you upstairs.” He shifts back in his chair and pulls out the keys to Doyoon’s new car from the top shelf of his desk. “Here are your keys. I have another client in ten minutes, so I’m sure Hansol or one of the other maintenance people can help you transfer your stuff into your new car.”

 

“Wonwoo-”

 

“Thank you for your purchase. I’ll use my commission money to go get wasted tonight. Have a nice day.” Wonwoo stands up and motions for Doyoon to leave, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything more stupid. His ex stares back at him with wide, teary eyes before taking the keys and walking out, closing the door softly behind him.

 

Now in the solace of his crippling guilt, Wonwoo finally lets himself cry. His tears come out in angry, hot streaks, burning his skin as they roll down his cheek. He shuts his eyes tightly to block any more from coming, but they persist nonetheless. He cries out memories of Doyoon, the euphoria of their first kiss, the butterflies in his stomach when he bent down on one knee and proposed, the total numbness that overtook him when Doyoon left. He cries out his hatred of his incapacity to love and all the pain it’s caused not only himself but others. And he cries out Junhui, the perfect, innocent victim caught up in his toxic web.

 

“Shh, it’s okay, Won. It’s okay,” a soft voice hums.

 

He has no recollection of anyone entering the room, but given the state he’s currently in, he doesn’t put it past himself to not have noticed. A pair of strong arms wraps around his shoulders and helps him to his feet. “You’re gonna be okay.”

 

Instantly, Wonwoo realizes it’s Soonyoung, and relaxes into the embrace, burying his head in the crook of the other’s neck. 

 

“I saw him walking upstairs and knew I had to come make sure you were okay,” Soonyoung murmurs as he rubs circles into Wonwoo’s back. “Breathe, Won. That’s it.”

 

“I can’t do this anymore,” Wonwoo gasps between sobs. His hands grab at the hem of Soonyoung’s shirt like a lifeline. “I can’t hurt him. I,” he laughs bitterly, making a futile attempt at wiping tears from his face, “I think I love him.”

 

Soonyoung places his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders and takes a step back, looking back at him with that knowing expression that never fails to put Wonwoo at ease. “Junhui?” he asks quietly.

 

Wonwoo nods. “Junhui.”

 

A long sigh leaves Soonyoung’s mouth as he drops his hands to loosely circle Wonwoo’s wrists. “Then you know what you need to do. Chan has your clients for the rest of the day covered. Hopefully you’ll take this time to come to the right solution.”

 

“Hopefully,” Wonwoo breathes.

  
  
  



End file.
